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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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)

As Lambert expresses his confusion, Strange can't help but grin a little as he pours himself some more ambrosia. "Or just do what you did beforehand but sober," he teases. "Though, we'll have to find some other people who can turn gaseous—I'm not going to be your test subject for all the practices."

Though he will be the test subject for some. If Lambert's going to find a way to actually work on his magic and try to change it into something stronger, of course Strange is going to be beside him, working on that as well, as he tries to help figure out just what precisely to do.

Thankfully for everyone involved, Strange blissfully ignores Celandine dropping that drawing on Childermass's lap. Nobody wants another repeat of that bullshit and Captain Oblivious is paying too much attention to his drink than to what the polecat's doing.

Had he knocked over drinks? Oh. Well, whatever, he must be unbothered by that since he just shrugs and looks down at the drawing suddenly within reach, still attached to a giggling polecat. If Childermass hadn't already seen stranger things by now, that would make it into the... not top of the list, but just on it, honestly.

"Let me," he says quietly, taking the paper from her and giving it an amused look. So Strange likes to doodle, hm? It's ridiculous, sure, but had it been worth that much of an uproar? In any case, drunken Celandine gets an idle scratch on the head from a fingertip or two for her drunken efforts.

"I don't know," he raises his voice again, joining the actual conversation. "I for one would like to see Ms. Mordio's face when someone suggested practicing with magic while three sheets to the wind."

"Easy for you to say," Lambert counters, pulling a face. "I've never had a knack for magic, and now I've got decades of muscle memory to unlearn." His gaze lands on the table, where Strange's other present to Childermass has gone neglected -- it's there along with the last, book shaped package Lambert brought but hasn't announced the recipient of. Since Lambert's a little shit with no respect for personal belongings, he's going to go about shredding the packaging because he wants to know what else Strange got!

Childermass, however, isn't going to receive a response from the witcher. That would be because as soon as his fingers make contact with the polecat's fur, Celandine sighs rapturously and shoves her hand right up against his palm. Still mid-unwrapping, Lambert's fingers and expression go slack as his eyes shut and he echoes the sound, dreamy and blessed out -- right up until his brain catches up to him and his face colors.

"Hey," he snaps, turning to look over his shoulder and struggling to keep his composure as another lazy wave of euphoria rolls through him just seeing Childermass and Celandine together. "Hands off the soul." Just ignore the fact that said soul is also gamely trying to climb into Childermass's lap, with a protest of her own.

"It feels nice, Lambert!"

Edited 2018-01-03 13:55 (UTC)

Hands off Lambert, that's not yours. The book Strange got Childermass is a sort of space Audubon field guide. It's filled with lush illustrations of birds all native to some distant planet a few galaxies away. Each bird has their name, a description of the bird, and stats about where they live, what they eat, et cetera. Only a few of the birds look like something that could feasibly live on Earth.

Thankfully for Lambert, Captain Oblivious over here doesn't call him out on opening a present that's not for him. Strange is too busy watching Celandine and Childermass...attempt to snuggle? Well that's odd. The fact that the daemon chimes in with how nice it feels is even odder. Strange can vaguely remember from Greysol that it's only lovers, family, or people you immensely trust who can make that skin to daemon contact without the thing freaking out. He trusts Childermass that much?

Still, musing will come later because it's now officially time to tease Lambert. Grin on his face, Strange walks over towards Childermass and Celandine, bending down so that he's at the polecat's level.

"May I as well?" And before he gets an answer, Strange reaches over to gently stroke a finger or two down Celandine's back. Let's see how Lambert reacts with two people touching his soul.

However he reacts, he won't have to react for long, because Childermass had only honestly meant to give Celandine a single pet and that's about it. Her abruptly shoving her head up against his hand? Unexpected, so he stills and waits to see what else she'll get up to. Deciding to sprawl into his lap, it would seem, and then Strange is all up in his personal space.

Even if he's only there as an attempt to further bother poor Lambert, he leans back some and goes hands-off with the daemon. It's only in retrospect that he realizes that might be too big of a tip-off as to why he can touch the polecat so easily, only seeing how Strange is attempting the same exact thing, well, then probably not, not really.

"You two are going to make him faint," he scolds them, daemon and magician both since Celandine is being just as bad as the rest of them.

Lambert doesn't get a chance to tell Strange to stop. He doesn't exactly faint, but Lambert drops the book on the table with a thunk, chest constricting at the shock of sensation, and he reels out of seat onto the floor a second time, unable to even catch himself. When Childermass takes his hand off Celandine and he slumps against the floor like his strings have been cut, gasping softly.

Even Celandine looks a little stunned, slack and boneless however much of herself she's managed to get on Childermass, and she shakes herself, hiccuping slightly and sliding off his lap and away from contact with both magicians, her step unsteady. It's uncertain what Lambert's response to having two different sets of hands on his soul would be like sober. While drunk? Well, it's to mixed effect. She does, however, glance over at Lambert and titter softly, swaying on the edge of the seat like she's in danger of falling to the floor herself.

"So that's why it's so easy to kill someone by grabbing their daemon," she chirps, unsteadily.

Once again, they're in a situation that could have been prevented if Strange just didn't do the dumb thing. The thunk and noise of Lambert hitting the floor causes Strange to quickly take his hand off of Celandine as well, as he turns around to look at Lambert. He does have enough sense to feel a bit guilty as he looks between the almost passed-out man and the slack and studded daemon. Great job, buddy. You messed that one up.

"Celandine, stop moving," Strange quietly mutters, looking over at the polecat. Because yep, she looks like she's about to fall off of Childermass's lap. That isn't a good sign.

"Now I truly am glad I don't have Siobhan anymore," he muses aloud. "If just two people touching a daemon caused that reaction, imagine what would happen if multiple people touched one." And when your soul's four hundred pounds and seal shaped, it's a lot easier for multiple people to touch than a tiny little polecat. The poor people who had daemons like horses and cows must constantly be paranoid of someone brushing against them.

Celandine won't have to worry terribly about falling out of the chair, as Childermass moves to helpfully slide her back further and away from the edge, though this time he uses his shirt sleeve to block any direct contact. After that, he pushes himself back up out of his own seat — seeing how he'd ended up at the table he'd more or less cleared of the caravan workers before — and walks back over to their own.

He stops to peer down at Lambert before nudging him with the toe of his shoe. Assuming the witcher responds, he'll follow that up by offering him a hand up.

"She'd only have to hit them with her tail to move them," Childermass points out as he does that. Siobhan would probably be offended, Strange thinking she'd be groped at so simply, the huffy thing that she was (to him, anyway). "Or snap at them. I would not want to be bitten by a seal, of that I am sure."

But off the topic of seals...

"Are you alright down there?"

Lambert, you dead?

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