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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Lambert, legs still hooked over his seat, looks offended by the laughter for all of a second before he hoists himself back up to sit properly at the table. Unlike Strange, he doesn't have any particular incentive to snatch the paper back, so he simply leans his elbow against the edge and picks up his drink again, directing his words at Strange instead.

"See, this is why I tell you that you need more exercise." He uses one hand to pour another generous measure of ambrosia into his mug ... and the other all too casually reaches out to attempt to give the crow a clumsy pet down the head and back.

"Exercise doesn't do a thing when the other person cheats," Strange points out the obvious. Birds have wings buddy, what the hell could he do then? Still, two can play at the dumb shapeshifting game.

With a wry smile on his face, Strange turns into smoke. The purple smoke lingers where he stood for a moment before trailing over towards Childermass (and Lambert by proxy). Strange doesn't really have a plan here. Get in Childermass's face? Make him cough so he drops the paper? Can birds even cough to begin with? All he knows is that smoke in Childermass's face will be annoying, ergo that's what Strange will do: try to float around Childermass's bird face in an annoying manner.

Pity he's forgotten that he's slightly poisonous. Thanks, alcohol.

Good god, Strange can do that with his entire body now? Childermass doesn't even waste the time needed to make an offended noise at Lambert's petting, instead straight up just taking off once the hand has left his back. It's... a very short flight.

See, someone didn't take a little fact like body mass into account when changing into something significantly smaller than a fairly tall human man.

Childermass has had a cup of wine and some of the ambrosia at this point.

What does that equal?

A crow taking off, flying a short distance extremely awkwardly, and then landing poorly on the next table over, tripping over his own wings as he tries to cross it. The silver lining is he's evaded the purple smoke (for now). The more rusty and sharp lining is, uh, well, he probably can't take off again, as a few false starts send him tumbling over an edge and onto a chair's seat instead.

Lambert just laughs like an asshole when Childermass takes off and takes an awkward spill. Now that is hilarious, and all this over a shitty drawing of a dog?

Strange being smoke puts a cramp in the whole 'getting drunk together' thing (alcohol evaporates, after all) so it's time to put a stop to that. Lambert waits to see if he'll follow after Childermass first, but whether he does or doesn't, as soon as he's taken another deep gulp of his drink, he's raising his other hand and waving his fingers in a lazy gesture.

Most of the time, Lambert can cast Yrden in his sleep. Most of the time, Lambert hasn't been spending hours trying to learn a different way of casting a spell that comes second nature. Meaning when the purple runes meant to force Strange back into corporeality appear on the floor, there's something subtly different about it, a glowing ball of purple light hovering lightly in the center.

A ball of purple light that suddenly shoots a streak of crackling force at smoke-Strange. If it makes contact, not only is Strange going to find himself suddenly corporeal, he's also going to find himself flung backwards.

Strange lingers for a bit as Childermass takes a tumble. Well then. That's unexpected. Bird went down and went down hard. However, Strange lingering around for a bit means that he's a sitting duck and perfect target for Lambert's spell.

There's a brief moment of shock as Strange realizes that Yrden's been cast and a brief moment of confusion because he hasn't seen that purple ball before. As such, the spell hits him right in the chest. Only a moment later Strange turns back to solid form as he's flung head over heels. He hits a chair, legs draped over the chair, chest on the floor, looking awkward and gangly as hell as he looks over at Lambert with surprise.

"That's new."

All this over a shitty drawing of a dog, that's right, although Childermass had meant to return it after making Strange chase him around a bit. That plan is super dead right now, though, because he's already dropped the drawing in his efforts to try and right himself.

He does manage to roll off of his back at some point, only it also means rolling straight off of the chair he landed in and to the floor with a dull thump of feathers and a plaintive caw.

Yeah, whatever Lambert and Strange are doing over there? Crow ain't paying attention. Crow has bigger problems right now.

"Yeah," Lambert says, staring dazedly at the still-glimmering light in the center of the spell. In hindsight, pre-gaming on an empty stomach with the intention of being able to get comfortably drunk at the same pace as his friends was not the brightest idea he's ever had.

"That is new." The thump followed by a caw draws his attention, though, and he laughs, louder than he should. Seeing Childermass kiss floor is hilarious, though the magician's not like to see it that way.

"What, can't remember you're not supposed to have feathers?" he quips. Ah, but he sees that bit of paper has gotten loose again. Only, it is so very far, and he really doesn't want to take another spill ... so instead, he shuts his eyes and concentrates, and Celandine pops out of thin air and teaches everyone in the vicinity something that they hadn't known before (or at least Lambert certainly hadn't) --

"Lambert," Celandine says, with a plaintive hiccup and giggle, stumbling over her own paws as she trots towards the fallen paper. "This isn't what I'm for."

-- daemons can, apparently, get drunk too.

Edited 2017-12-31 00:48 (UTC)

Considering that he isn't a bird and didn't pregame, Strange might be the most sober out of everyone at the moment: a terrifying thought, as he's also the one standing up and trying to become less tangled with the chair.

He's on his feet as Celandine is summoned...and as they learn just how drunk the poor polecat is. "We're all lucky I can't summon Siobhan," Strange points out as he clumsily walks over towards the paper as well. Celandine is rocky because she's drunk, Strange is rocky due to a lack of coordination.

"We've an inebriated bird and an inebriated polecat, the last thing we need is a drunk seal." At least, he thinks Childermass is drunk. His inability to bird happened really fast.

Inability to bird and to human, apparently, because a polecat and a looming man both stumbling towards him is only going to put a drunk crow in a bad mood. Whoever gets there first is getting snapped at, although accuracy is about as against him right now as walking in a straight line is against the other two...

Edited 2017-12-31 02:36 (UTC)

"Too bad," Lambert answers lazily. "I would have liked to see her try to get on your lap."

Drunk or not, Celandine is a swift-moving target. Her fur puffs up as the beak closes onto air and she snatches the paper up in her paws and retreats.

"You're supposed to be fun when you're drunk," she scolds the bird as though it's a personal offense, swaying slightly and shaking her head.

Foiled by a bird and a rat. Still, Childermass didn't get the paper so Strange is calling it a win. Walking over towards the table, Strange pours himself a large glass of the sunlight ambrosia and downs a good chunk of it in one gulp.

Hey, he needs to get more drunk, this will work. Though really, the fact that Childermass seems insistent on remaining a bird means that there's one less person to bother...which makes it a bit less fun.

Though, there's an idea forming at the back of Strange's mind. "If you can't do that...turning back thing you normally do, then flutter over here and I'll break your transformation myself." It's said in a 'duh, Childermass' sort of tone as Strange is entirely oblivious to the fact that Childermass might not want to be a person and definitely wouldn't want to be smooched.

Celandine's only response is an aggravated caw, whereas Strange's is... Childermass trying to take off again. He makes it into the air, but only long enough to land heavily on another table and startle a few of the caravan worker's gathered there for their own after hours drinking.

They'd been watching the three with growing amusement since the rush for the stupid drawing. Well, right up until a friggin' crow knocks over one of their drinks, anyway. Now there's a little less amusement.

It's not until the crow knocks over a whole bunch of drinks and kind of seems to not generally not be acting Childermass-like that it occurs to Lambert that Childermass might not entirely be in the building. Celandine, as always, beats him to it.

"I don't think he can understand us," she giggles, curling in on herself.

Lambert gives the put-upon caravan workers his best grin, reaching blindly for the sweater Childermass left on the table and glancing at Strange. "If I catch him, you really think you can turn him back?"

To Strange's credit, he comes to that realization at the same time. This isn't Childermass screwing around while somehow stuck, this is...what, bird brain? Bird mind? This is probably the transformation spell messing with him because that's a thing that happens with transformation spells. He's halfway considering a lecture on this before Strange realizes that would be a very Norrell thing of him and thankfully bites that impulse down.

But seriously, was he the only person who learned something from his day as a cat, transformation magic could mess with one's mind! Good lord, you two!

At Lambert's questing, Strange scoffs. The man runs in ego, he is 100% certain he can turn Childermass back.

"Of course I can," Strange answers, without hesitation. This isn't like the bicorn, he knows this magic. How many times in the past few months has he had to deal with Childermass going bird and being annoying that way? A lot, Strange knows the spell, he's confident he can break it. "But we'll need to catch him for the spell to have full effect," said with a nod at that sweater.

Well, it's not like he's going anywhere else right now. Thankfully, he settles down on the caravan worker's table without knocking over anything else, mostly due in part of the workers grabbing their shit and backing off. They're no stranger to magic gone awry and they aren't about to get caught up in it.

Still, because of that, he goes from eyeing the retreating workers balefully to eyeing Lambert and Strange, instead, since they're suddenly the closest people making noise all of the sudden.

"Like the hunt then," Lambert says, and because there's a lot that could mean, he clarifies: "Keep his eyes on you."

Sweater over his arm, he seems to amble off aimlessly, but he's really just circling around the crow's table so he can come up behind him. Strange's distraction doesn't have to be all that long or all that effective -- a moment of inattention is all Lambert needs to try and throw the sweater over the bird and swaddle him up in the soft material.

The funny thing is, this isn't even the first time he can remember doing this, even if he knows that never happened -- not really. At least there isn't a broken wing to worry about this time.

Keep his eyes on you. Well, Strange can think of a few things that might catch a bird's attention. Hopefully one of those would work. He turns all his attention towards Childermass, looking over at the bird while trying to still keep Lambert in view.

And then one of the greatest magicians of the age makes kissy noises.

"Hello there! Are you a pretty bird? Who's a pretty bird? Erm, hello there pretty bird!" As he talks, Strange fiddles with one of the cuffs on his sleeve as he tries to show off his mirrored scratches, reflecting on the lights. Is this working? Who knows! But he's making an attempt.

Sure it works. Acting that ridiculous would get anything's attention, Strange. The crow turns his head to eye him warily, making a low, warning noise in the back of his throat as the magician makes awful kissy noises. God, there's a memory he won't be glad to have once he's human again, but as he isn't just yet, that thought won't cross his mind until later. So!

A distracted crow makes for an easy crow to grab, at least, Lambert getting the sweater over him before he can react to the creak of wood underfoot as the witcher approaches. It isn't without a struggle, though.

He can't flail his wings around, but he sure can raise a racket and snap at anything that comes near his beak.

A fact of which Lambert is well aware of, so he makes certain to keep the pointy end of the murder bird away from him and his eyes. This also does, however, mean all that snappy bird fury is directed in Strange's direction. He keeps his grip firm but not choking, and it's clear he's got no intention of letting him slip free until he's ready to. With both hands occupied, though, he can't use his preferred method of calming down panicking creatures, so he'll have to do this the old-fashioned way.

"Steady there," he murmurs, ears flicking lazily. Soothing doesn't come naturally to him, but it's the sort of tone he uses with Pig and Baker, low and affectionate. To think Childermass would act more like a scolding fishwife than a magician... "We'll get you out of this, if you'll stop being a hellion for five seconds."

He lifts his head to grin at the still-human magician in the room. "Ready to pucker up, Mr. Strange?" Celandine has squirmed her way up onto the table the crow has vacated, watching the scene with clear amusement.

Strange waits in the background, watching Lambert and staying away as he wrestles the bird. He's waiting and watching because let's not get pecked my a bird. Eventually, Childermass is wrangled into something close to submission.

With a grin, Strange gives Lambert a nod. Time to kiss a bird. Strange quickly mutters the spell under his breath before he leans in. It's awkward as hell since Lambert is still holding a fussy bird, but Strange is trying to get a less-bitey patch of feathers.

Once he finds a spot, he leans in to give Childermass a quick kiss.

It definitely takes a moment to get in close enough without catching a stupid beak in the face, but once Strange does and leans forward to lay a kiss on black feathers, the spell takes hold.

Lambert is about to find himself trying to hang onto a six-foot-tall Englishman in the next few seconds. At least this version of Childermass isn't trying to fight them, so... improvement? Regardless of what happens, he staggers back against the witcher to lean on him, lacking anything else to grab and steady himself. He looks around quickly, wild-eyed for about three seconds before realizing--

"Ah, that." That sure happened. "I forgot about mass..."

Which he almost sounds sheepish over when admitting it. Almost.

Fortunately for all involved, Lambert was expecting to suddenly be saddled with a six-foot magician, though his sense of coordination is somewhat worse in practice than it is in his head right now. Childermass staggers, and so does the witcher, taking them back a step or two for balance while he fights to keep them both upright. The sweater ends up held in one hand while his arms instinctively wrap around the magician's chest and he smothers a laugh against the back of Childermass's head, into his hair.

"Not the only thing you forgot." He'll give him a moment or two to make sure he can stand on his own two feet, then release him, taking a few steps out of his personal space ... then slinging an arm over Strange's shoulder.

"We're trying to get him to have fun, not knock him out," he scolds. "Did you forget you sedate people when they breathe you in?" By now, the glowing purple runes of the altered Yrden spell have faded, thankfully without any further incident.

Edited 2018-01-01 01:49 (UTC)

There we go. As Childermass turns back into a human, Strange moves out of the way, letting Lambert catch him without Strange being in the way. He smiles and watches for a moment before Lambert reaches over to cuff him on the shoulder.

And oh yeah. He is poisonous. Whoops. Strange shrugs it off before giving both of them a wide grin.

"The same goes to you! You almost knocked me out as well. What the hell was that addition to Yrden?" And why did it beat him up so badly?

Edited 2018-01-01 02:13 (UTC)

Childermass rolls his eyes and finds a chair to sit down heavily in before even trying to focus on what the other two are up to. He's technically back to not being drunk, but that doesn't mean he's any less dazed from his short stint as a wasted crow. So, yeah, sitting. That's best.

"Did he?" Childermass frowns at Strange and Lambert both. "When was that?"

Because he totally missed that part, guys.

"When you were knocking down other people's drinks. And I don't know," Lambert answers honestly, frowning quizzically at his own hand.

"Rita was helping Lambert change his magic," Celandine supplies helpfully, from where she's been waiting for things to calm down (or lounging lazily and enjoying the sensation of being drunk. "This is the first time it's worked, though! Maybe next time we'll try getting drunk first."

She's also still holding the mostly-forgotten drawing, which she now proceeds to deposit into Childermass's lap. Well, or try to. When she slips off the table edge to land on a seat beside the magician, she just ends up plopping onto her side and giggling, paper still in paw.

Edited 2018-01-01 22:55 (UTC)

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cue benny hill music

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