lostcarnival | ⇨ THE LUNAR SOLSTICE

Entry tags:

⇨ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Strange rolls over to look at Lambert. He's not moving his head from the other man's lap, not because it's particularly comfy (spoilers: it isn't!) but because he feels like his head is full of rocks and if he tries to move it, all the rocks will fall out. Which obviously isn't good, though Strange isn't entirely sure why it's not good.

"I had some friends eventually." There was Flora. Wonderful Flora, who didn't abandon him even after he was cursed, who he trusted to play her part perfectly and she did. But she only showed up later, after he was already on the road to ruin. "But not in the beginning. I was a fugitive surrounded by vile rumors who fled to the continenet. What few friends I had wouldn't dare associate with me."

Surprise, turns out he was just as much a friendless loser as Lambert was. It's all said in a bit of a matter of fact tone as Strange blinks rapidly, trying to see if that'll turn the shade of pink he sees everything as back to that lovely purple it was earlier.

The witcher takes this in far poorer humor than Strange.

"If rumors were enough to keep them away then they were pretty shitty friends," Lambert says sharply, which poor Strange and his head full of rocks probably aren't going to appreciate it.

Of course, for Lambert who barely has social stature to lose in the first place, friendship is more precious than reputation. For the rare, precious few that Lambert counts his friends, there are few things he wouldn't do, and he certainly wasn't going to let a stupid thing like rumors keep him away from one who needed him. Even if they didn't ask for it -- especially if they didn't ask for it.

"England's full of some fucking stupid rules."

Strange frowns, trying to piece out a reply through the rocks banging together in his head. Some of his friends at least tried. Grant, bless him, was the one who actually gave a bit of a shit about Strange and tried to understand his actions. But it was different in England. And Strange has a feeling Lambert doesn't know just how terrible those rumors were.

He's not arguing the fact that England's full of dumb rules, though. Lambert's right in that part.

"You weren't there for the rumors. There were rumors of the black magic I cast in the peninsula. Rumors that I was the one who killed Arabella." There's something tremendously funny about that to Strange. He starts to giggle again, biting down on the inside of his lip to keep from outright laughing. Because him, killing Arabella? How ridiculous. "I don't think they wanted me to know but what I didn't hear, the darkness whispered to me."

"Nobody who knew you for longer than five minutes could ever believe you'd kill your wife," Lambert answers flatly. "You'd kill yourself first."

From the sound of it, at the very least, he tried to kill himself trying to get her back, and even if he accidentally killed Arabella it would be much the same. It's not as though Lambert is a stranger to the idea of rumors being enough provocation to murder, after all -- that's one of the reasons the School of the Wolf is dying out -- but all the same...

"Does it really matter that much in England? Being respectable, no matter who you are?"

Strange attempts to shrug, a movement which looks odd considering he's still lying down on Lambert's lap. "It depends on your status."

For all of a crazy drugged out wizard he is, Strange is also upper class. Ergo he has a lot of upper class friends. Ergo said upper class friends would think twice before doing something that might upset the social order or challenge their place. Strange doesn't really judge them. It's just how it is.

"And it matters if you're the king's magician. I was important ergo I had a higher status ergo people wanted me and my associates to be seen as respectable." Which obviously didn't happen. Strange's eyes grow wide as a manic grin plants itself on his face.

"I doubt they knew what to do with me. I think some of them were scared of what I've become!" And he can't help but giggle again before he takes another puff from the joint, taking care not to blow smoke near Lambert's face.

Lambert can't really picture being scared of Strange, but he supposes it's just the same idea behind what makes people so scared of magic users to begin with. Respect and deference when you were above them and in favor, quick to turn around and bite once you fell out of it. Politics, he thinks with no small amount of disgust, and shakes his head.

"Should have given them something to really be scandalized about," he tells him instead. "If you can't stop rumors, you might as well spread your own. Consorted with devils, took a man for a lover, started wearing the unfashionable colors..." There are so many things the aristocracy could get worked up about that trying to even begin to put a comprehensive list together is sort of impossible.

Lambert's suggestions cause Strange to giggle some more. It's the harmless giggle of someone who is blazed out of their mind but finds this dumbness enjoyable as hell.

"And nobody who knew me for longer than five minutes could ever believer I would take a male lover," Strange responds, in a matter of fact tone of voice. He's super straight! Strange is aware of that. Hell, even in Portland he was still kind of hilariously straight, unlike Mr. Secret Boyfriend over there. Though, the thought of Portland causes Strange to frown a bit as he looks at the ceiling before he continues to charge the conversation forwards and talk about kissing dudes.

"Besides, who would they say I'd take up to begin with?" Strange asks, despite the fact that Lambert can count on one hand the number of people he's met from Strange's world. "It'd have to be a believable choice and I honestly can't think of anyone in England who would fit it."

There's an uncomfortable prickle of warmth up the back of Lambert's neck, recognizing the thin ice the conversation is heading towards, but it's almost immediately met by stubborn defiance. Childermass had only ever asked him to avoid telling Strange their awkwardly unconsummated dalliance in Portland wasn't so unconsummated anymore, even if Lambert didn't know what to call it now. And Childermass is a bastard who ran out on Lambert for some perceived offense before he could yell at him to his satisfaction, so Lambert isn't feeling particularly generous towards him right now.

So yeah, they're going down this topic, since Strange has latched onto it. Lambert is just going to have to count on that unbelievable straightness to keep him oblivious.

"So there are standards even for rumors in England, too?" Lambert asks, with a laziness he doesn't feel. "Go on then. What would make it believable?"

"It would have to make sense considering my personality," Strange explains, still kind of staring at the ceiling. Experimentally, he moves his head and the rocks inside slosh back and forth.

"Using people we know, for example," Strange continues, apparently taking 'if I had to pick a dude' way more seriously than he thought. "A rumor about me and Foster or Sans wouldn't make sense. But you could see myself with Syrlya, ergo that rumor makes more sense."

"You do like plants more than most people," Lambert says without missing a beat. "Please don't bring up the idea of you with Foster ever again." Friends don't traumatize friends with hypothetical hookups, Strange!

"They can all use magic, and you like magic. Is that all it takes to get you interested in a man?" Oh, Strange had been talking about personality, but that sounds plausible enough and Lambert's smirking now, teeth sharp. "If it's that easy, then wouldn't Norrell be the likeliest candidate in England? Maybe you ran off because he rejected your love and you were in Venice nursing a broken heart. With drugs."

That sounds totally plausible, right? But the dramatic tone Lambert recites it in just makes it so clearly hamming it up it's impossible to take seriously, and he's obviously fighting down a laugh the whole time.

Edited 2017-12-22 01:45 (UTC)

The shithead grin on Strange's face tells Lambert that's entirely the reason he brought up Foster in the first place: it's one of the literal worst hook-ups he can think of and he wanted to torment Lambert.

Turnabout, however, is fair play and Strange just looks briefly horrified at the idea of him and Norrell in a relationship. He attempts to sit up from Lambert's lap but nope, this isn't going to happen, his head feels like it's full of fuzz so he winces at seemingly nothing before laying back down to sulk.

"Ergh, no thank you. That'd be like if you and I were in a relationship: it simply wouldn't work!"

He has standards! It takes more than magic to get Strange interested!

"Why not?" Lambert asks, with mock-offense. "We get along. We drink together. We let each other get away with stupid shit, most of the time. Sounds like good relationship material to me. I like you enough to lower my standards."

Because of course if one of them is objectively more of a catch, it's Lambert.

"Because, while I like that in a friend, I don't want that in a partner," he says, as if that's explanation enough. But, Lambert deserves more of an explanation, so Strange continues. "The person I want to settle down with must have certain traits. They need to be kind and dependable. They need to help challenge me, both in my magic but as me as a person. They need to be...strong and steadfast and not let me get away with stupid shit."

This is Arabella. He's describing Arabella. And he's just staring off into space with big ol'doe eyes as he thinks of Arabella. Strange is a sap and is going full tilt into sap mode here and now. She challenges him so much as a person, helping him become someone better than the Jonathan Strange he currently is. As much as he loves Lambert and adores their friendship, it would be far too easy to settle into complacency if they were together forever sort of romantic partners.

Strange sounds like he could be talking about Childermass, Lambert almost jokes, but doesn't. Because as stupid as hell as Strange is acting now, as clearly moonstruck as he is, there's something in those words that hit uncomfortably close to home. Lambert's never given much thought to what kind of person he wants as a partner -- hell, he's never even entertained the possibility-- but the way Strange is talking about Arabella right now, it's almost something to envy. Though part of him wonders if it's worse: to never find someone who fit you that way, or find someone who matches that description entirely, only to have them torn from you.

He looks around them almost guiltily, at the room that's too warm and the open windows, like he half-expects to see a judgmental bird sitting on the windowsill listening in on this stupid conversation and reading Lambert's mind.

"You didn't say they needed to be a woman," is the joke he lands on instead, though the humor's a bit weak. "So that's not a dealbreaker."

Edited 2017-12-22 04:31 (UTC)

He didn't? Huh! He didn't! Strange frowns in concentration before shrugging slightly, deciding then and there that mulling over his sexuality is dumb because he is married and there's many more interesting things to focus on; one of which is Lambert's ceiling, which is flashing different colors, of all things. From pink to purple to this odd greenish shade and so on and so forth. "I suppose that's right," he muses, tilting his head to try and get a better view of the ceiling.

"It's a pity my England wasn't as open-minded as some of the worlds we visit are. I might have ended up wooing a man before I met Arabella!" Because of course he was going to end up with Arabella. Strange isn't certain he believes in soulmates or any of that bunk but if they were in the same world together and if they met at the right time, then of course he would end up with Arabella, that's simply a given.

"It's not?" Lambert asks, brows raised. Oh, Childermass had said there were laws against men being with men, but to hear Strange speak with such flippancy ... he can't tell if it's the drugs or if it's just Strange. Still, best not to give away too much of what he might or might not already know about England's tolerance or lack thereof, even if Strange already seems distracted enough.

"Not like most people cared for it back home," he says after a moment, frowning at a corner of the room. Strange may have his odd visions to amuse himself; Lambert only has cold reality. "Some places they'll turn a blind eye as long as you're not doing it in the street. Other places they'll chase you out and beat you for it. Is England better or worse than that?"

Edited 2017-12-22 05:18 (UTC)

Oblivious as always, Strange doesn't really see anything suspicious in Lambert's line of questioning. Instead, he tilts his head, leaning off the couch slightly to get a better view of the ceiling as he continues talking.

"There's certainly laws against that sort of thing," Strange explains, with a little shrug, "and I imagine it's easier if you're rich enough to leave the country for a month or two once the rumors start to spread." His tone is amazingly nonchalant: Strange doesn't really seem to care and is relating this in a matter of fact sort of tone. And truth be told, considering he doesn't really know anyone who was charged with sodomy, that makes it easier for Strange to talk about this all in hypotheticals.

"I suppose it's a mix of your two scenarios. After all, I haven't a clue how individual families would react. Although," and here Strange giggles a bit, "England's currently facing a greater number of problems than who's fucking who. I'd like to think things might change."

Not just for those who fancied the same gender, but for the women and poor men as well. Magic could be (and should be!) a unifier. But would it? He doesn't know.

The giggling should be a good sign, proof that Strange probably isn't going to remember this question in more than just disjointed pieces later, but it makes Lambert's lips tighten all the same. It's what puts a bit more steel in his voice when he answers.

"How would you react?" he challenges. "You said it yourself, nobody even wanted to risk being seen with you over some rumors. Would you turn your back on a friend for the same?"

This is about as real subtle as 'I have a friend...' but it's Lambert, after all, so he's past caring.

"Absolutely not," Strange replies, without hesitation. He can tell that for some reason, this is very important to Lambert, so Strange is trying his hardest to push back the lethargy he gets when he's high and focus on Lambert's question here and now. Don't stare at the ceiling, actually answer this.

"The only reason I was able to save Arabella was because people trusted me and helped me out despite the rumors and misgivings. I'd be a hypocrite if if I didn't do the same." There's a pause, before Strange continues, leaning in towards Lambert like he's going to tell the man a secret.

"And on just a personal level, I really don't care," he mock-whispers. "As long as someone's happy, that's what matters the most."

Unsurprisingly, Jonathan Strange is a huge romantic.

Slightly pacified by the answer, Lambert settles down, not even realizing he'd bristled or leaned forward in the first place. Unfortunately, that also leaves room for the embarrassment to creep in and he averts his gaze from Strange, annoyed at his own inability to keep his own responses in check.

"Good," is what he settles on instead, finally. It is a romantic sentiment, befitting Strange, but the less they dwell on this, the better. Still, at least it eases some of the weight he wasn't even aware he was carrying, making it a little easier to square his shoulders.

... but now it's probably best to change the topic. He shakes his head slightly, prodding Strange's shoulder.

"You should have some water," he prompts.

"Naaah," Strange responds, with a shake of his head. "I'm hungry, not thirsty." And wow is he hungry. Did Lambert have food here? Was there something he could eat? He wanted corn chips, he really wanted corn chips, they had those occasionally in the dining hall, something called Fritos and Strange feels he could devour an entire bag of those right now.

While Lambert thinks that they shouldn't dwell on it, Strange does dwell on it a moment. Why was Lambert asking these questions? It was obviously personal...ah. Strange has an idea. "You know that we're dear friends," Strange remarks, looking up at Lambert. "If you like men, then I'll tease you and try to set you up with a potential someone just as I would if you like women. You've stuck by me through all of this," said with a vague hand gesture, "I wouldn't abandon you that easily."

That moment of insight is ruined seconds later as Strange, in an attempt to sit up, straight up falls off the couch onto the floor with a thud. He can't help but bust into another fit of giggles.

"I like both, actually." Lambert's lip twitches slightly, but his response is bland, the slight flush to his cheeks the only betrayal of his own discomfiture. It wasn't really him he was asking for -- he'd told Childermass he had a poor measure of Jonathan Strange if he thought he was likely to cut someone off over what they stuck their dick in -- but there's no way to say that without betraying the confidence he'd promised to keep.

And there goes Strange, rolling off his lap and landing fairly hard. Lambert winces, reaching down to hook his hands under Strange's armpits and haul him up until he's at least got his back propped against the couch.

"And I don't need you setting me up with anyone, man or woman." Jonathan Strange is many things, but a capable matchmaker? Lambert doubts it. "If you're hungry, there's food in the kitchen, but I'm not carrying you there." There are limits to friendship, okay.

It's like moving a rag doll or a sack of potatoes as Lambert yanks Strange back over towards the couch. Once propped up, Strange looks up at Lambert, with a grin still giggling slightly. He doesn't need to set him up with anyone yeah right. Lambert's totally gonna get set up with someone. Strange just doesn't know who yet or how he's going to do it.

But, Lambert's his friend and Lambert deserves to be happy so let's find him a boyfriend! Or a one night stand. Strange isn't picky.

And ooh, food, that's doing a good job distracting him from Operation Get Lambert a Fuck. "What kind of food is in there?" And can he eat it? He's going to eat it, even if it's slightly nasty or out of date.

The idea of Strange being remotely involved in any attempt to get Lambert laid is a wince inducing one. Much like Strange can't imagine them being partners, Lambert can't imagine him being any sort of matchmaker, and he certainly can't give Lambert any of the charisma that might have played any part in him getting married. Worse, Lambert dreads what sort of personality Strange may decide Lambert needs or wants in a potential hookup. His actual hookup is already complicated enough, and if he's honest with himself, is probably out of his league, too.

Thankfully, though, Strange takes the bait towards lighter conversation, something less uncomfortable than needles that may or may not be in his heart.

"Nuts," he says after a moment to think it over. He's been eating without really looking at what he's putting in his mouth, these days. "Jerky. Bread. Half a chicken pie. One of those nut pies." Pecans. He's talking about pecans.

Oh thank god, none of it sounds like fruit. Bread and nuts, good solid food. Very slowly, Strange gets to his feet, pushing himself off of the floor. He turns to look over at Lambert for a moment, narrowing his eyes because hmm those needles are still there, jutting out of his chest for Strange to see. He's swaying slightly, completely unable to stand totally still, but he stares at Lambert's chest for an uncomfortable few moments before deciding that this'll be fixed later, time for food now.

"The rocks in my head seem to have lightened," he casually remarks, as if Lambert will somehow have a goddamn clue what he's talking about. "So I think I'll have some bread." He looks down at the joint in his hand: it's stopped burning, but the end smolders slightly. Strange takes one more puff of it for good luck before deciding yeah, this thing's probably done, Lambert would just fuss at him if he lights it up again. But he can't hold it while he makes himself food...

Obviously the solution is to offer Lambert the joint—which he does. There's a proud smile on his face, like the sort cats get when they bring in dead animal parts and obviously expect their owners to be proud of them. Look! You've got the joint now! Isn't that amazing?

⇨ THE LUNAR SOLSTICE

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw for period-appropriate homophobia

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)