lostcarnival | [open] december will be magic again

Entry tags:

[open] december will be magic again

Who: everyone!
When: the evening of D15
Where: A small meeting hall on the moon, close to the portal to the carnival
What: a whole bunch of show-offs meet up to show off their magic, people interested in magic come to learn about said magic, and other people show up to see if something inevitably gets set on fire. (aka mage club)
Warnings: none so far, will edit if needed.

The meeting hall is a large open space, with hardwood floors and a rustic decor. A few chairs and tables are scattered around, though there aren't enough for the amount of people who'll hopefully show up. Some food has been set out: mostly finger foods (tiny sandwiches, fruit, veggies & dip) though there are some savory options and plenty of home-baked cookies, courtesy of Rin. Drink wise, there's water, hot chocolate, hot tea, and a few bottles of wine because tipsy magic sounds like an awesome idea and this is what happens when the alcoholic makes the dinner menu. Aside from the food table and the few tables, there's not much of anything in the room: plenty of open space for showing off or getting out of the way of someone who wants to show off.

One of the doors of the meeting hall leads to the outside. There's a wider, 'backyard' sort of area with plenty of room for people to cast magic as large and impressive as they want. A fire pit stands outside also for warming your hands and other fire-based magic. Please don't set the building on fire.

This is all very informal. If pressed for details, Strange would have told anyone to just come whenever, stay as long as you like, and so on and so forth. The emphasis is on learning about each other's magic, displaying one's skills and talents, and helping anyone who wished to learn magic decide on a path for them to take.

Showing off is just a given.

( ooc: This is an open mingle log! Feel free to make your own top-levels & tag around! )

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"It's snow, Strange," Lambert answers disdainfully. "Once you've seen it once, it all looks the same." The snow here is softer and somehow homier than it is in in Kaer Morhen, he'll admit that, but gods forbid he get caught out doing anything like enjoy himself in the cold. Not that he's all that cold right now, anyway. He's sipped enough faerie ale to be pink-cheeked at this point, riding the edge of tipsy and enjoying actually being there, though in his opinion, Strange is far too sober.

"You want any of this?" He picks up the bottle of faerie ale at his feet. A couple of bottles had gone into the cure, courtesy of the carnival's treasury, but a few people had seen fit to bestow Lambert with his personal stash, so... "I'm wondering if the caravan's got the recipe."

Hell, if Lambert's offering...Strange knocks back the rest of his wine worryingly quick then offers the now-empty glass to Lambert. "If you wouldn't mind pouring it, I won't say no."

This is how Strange gets absolutely hammered at the end of the mage meeting. Because load him up buddy, he is perfectly fine with that faerie ale that Strange drastically underestimates how badly it'll fuck him up.

"Have you tried the sunlight ambrosia yet? I picked up a few bottles of that for myself. We'll have to meet up and split it one of these evenings." Magic club has apparently turned into booze club, at least for these two idiots.

Lambert, who has a much better sense of how badly the faerie ale can fuck anyone up, doesn't pour Strange too generous a measure -- just about half a cup. Hopefully, he's not planning on getting through it that quickly, but given the rate they consume this sort of thing... he just laughs when Strane brings up the ambrosia.

"I haven't, but I'm not the one trying to work my way through the caravan's whole supply of substances," he answers, setting the bottle back down.

"If they're there for the trying, then of course I'm going to try them. I don't see why I shouldn't." Says the man who's already gotten drunk off of one type of faerie booze and gotten high off of one type of faerie drug.

Taking the cup, Strange knocks back more of the faerie ale than he probably should have. He squinches up his face in slight disgust as he swallows it. Good Lord, that stuff is potent.

"Did you give me White Gull again?"

"Faerie ale," Lambert supplies, swirling the glowing liquid around the bottle once and grinning at Strange. "Same stuff that went into the cure. Strong enough to get a high fae drunk, apparently."

Which explains how it knocked most people out cold. It's more than enough to get a witcher pleasantly tipsy, and certainly enough to get an English magician wasted.

"So, what do you think?" He nods back at the hall, the other magic users mingling. "Not regretting getting all these mages together yet?"

Huh, well that explains a lot. Strange takes another tentative sip of the drink. Now that he knows it's alcoholic as hell, the taste isn't half bad. He's not going to be downing the thing in one gulp like he does with some wine, but it'll be nice to sip on for a while.

And as Lambert mentions the meeting, Strange looks out at all of the magicians, would-be magicians, and the rest out there. There's a pause before he gives Lambert a wry little grin.

"I'm not regretting it in the slightest. The carnival is full of magic. The least we can do is give the magicians here a place to actually talk about it."

"And argue with each other about it, too," Lambert says, cheerfully. Because arguments are as inevitable as sunrise and sunset, where magic users are concerned. It's only a matter of time before someone takes issue with something; the only surprise is that it hasn't happened yet.

"We're magicians," Strange teases, with a grin. "We do nothing but argue."

This is Strange unintentionally mirroring Lambert's train of thought. Magicians argue. Both of them know that. "As long as we end the night with nobody set on fire, I'll consider that a win."

"It's still early," Lambert points out, lazily. "Plenty of time left for that to happen." He takes a sip of his own drink, a watered-down version of the faerie ale, because he likes the potency of it but also likes, say, being able to walk in a straight line.

"I saw a couple of new faces around. What do you make of 'em?"

"I'm afraid I haven't put names to faces yet," he admits. One of the perils when you meet someone over the radio. "But I like Lavellan. We had a wonderful conversation about the different types of magic in our worlds and the similarities between them as well. In England, magic was kept at bay by the mirrors. In her world, magic is kept at bay by something called the Veil. Perhaps I could give her tips on how to remove it."

There's nothing but respect in Strange's tone. The fact that Lavellan was willing to converse with him despite the reveal of some personal details has left Strange with a good impression of her.

"Solas, on the other hand, is an ass." An acute observation from someone who's literally had half a conversation with the man. Arrogant and judgmental, who said that Strange was arrogant and judgmental, do they know how wrong they are?

"So you could say he's a Solass?" Lambert grins, though he shakes his head on Strange talking about removing the barrier to magic.

"Does she actually want it removed? She didn't exactly sound thrilled on the radio." Yeah, buddy, guess who can eavesdrop too. "Pretty sure I heard something about "demon possession" in there."

"She might not want it removed but it certainly needs to be removed," says the person who only has the barest amount of knowledge with regards to the situation and is saying this pretty much entirely due to his own beliefs and self interests. It's obstructing magic. Of course it needs to be removed. There's too many parallels with the state of magic in Strange's world for him not to have an opinion on this.

"People were wary of magic returning to England as well, but it worked out in the end. They'll adapt."

"You're doing that thing where you sound like you've got your head up your own ass again," Lambert says amiably, with no real judgement. It's mage business, so what the hell does he care?

"Just don't let it get in the way of doing the job. Also, did you miss the part about 'demon possession'? Because if that's something that can happen to her here, using her magic for the Carnival, that seems like one of those things you want to know about before it's a problem."

Wait, he's doing that again? Ah shit, he's supposed to be humble, sounding like he's got his head up his ass can't help in that regard (even if a part of him still believes there must be a way to return magic to Thedas without much harm and she just hasn't found it yet.) Strange briefly looks apologetic, but doesn't exactly say anything with regards to Lambert's comment. After all, there's magic to talk about.

"I'm still not sure if the demon possession is a feature of Miss Lavellan's magic or Miss Lavellan's world. If it's the latter, then there's not much to worry about within the carnival."

But if it's the former...well, then they'll have problems.

"Magic's always something to worry about, Strange," Lambert snorts. "One of these days, I'm going to get that tattooed on you."

After everything they've been through, to claim otherwise seems willfully blind at best, and many unkinder things Lambert could call it besides that.

Strange can't help but smile a wry little smile at that. "Yes, but it's not something to worry about to the extent that people here worry about it. Worrying about magic is like worrying about the rain." You only worry about it in specific circumstances.

He certainly knows magic can be a problem. Half of the problems at the carnival can be boiled down to 'magic'. But then again, a good majority of those problems were solved by magic as well.

"Some people lose all they have to rain, Strange. All it takes is one storm and a flood can take it all." The simile doesn't impress Lambert, that much is obvious from the flat look he levels Strange, but after a moment. he shrugs.

"If you're so set on bringing magic back to England, you're still going to have rules." If there's anything human society is damn good at, it's coming up with those. "Just because you wouldn't use magic for something doesn't mean someone else won't."

Though there's precious little Strange wouldn't use magic for, he's sure.

"I'm afraid Childermass is going to have to come up with the rules, what with the fact that I'm cursed and trapped in faerie." Strange, to his credit, does look a bit apologetic at the fact that he's essentially shoved a new system of governance and rule making on poor Childermass's head. Unsurprisingly, he didn't think his plans through.

"This is England though, I'm certain they'll come up with some needless rules and silly plans eventually." Regulating a new and terrifying system of magic isn't 'silly', but Strange obviously has a different opinion than most about the state of magic. "I can only hope that whatever they come up with doesn't quash the spirit of magic and the desires of the magicians themselves."

Lambert outright snorts at that. "Trust me -- not a lot can crush someone who uses magic. If they're even a tenth as stubborn as you, they'll have nothing to worry about."

Though that other thing gives him pause. "What do you mean Childermass has to come up with the rules?" He hadn't been under the impression Childermass was in charge of anything, but the last time he'd spoken with either magician about the state of their world at any length, circumstances were slightly different.

"Now that Norrell and I have vanished, he's possibly the greatest authority on magic in the country," Strange explains, in a matter of fact tone of voice. Oh, there were other practical magicians: Segundus and Honeyfoot spring to mind. But neither of them had the knowledge that Childermass did. After all, there were very few books of magic and what books there were, Norrell owned them (and books that Strange is certain Childermass read when Norrell was asleep or ill or both.)

This made John Childermass one of the most learned men on magic in England. Childermass probably hated it.

"But you're right. England is about to enter a new age. It needs to change and flourish, not follow the whims of a madman or a book hoarder." Strange only hopes that people let it change and flourish.

"It'll follow the whims of someone," Lambert answers, knocking back another gulp of wine with faerie ale. In that context, at least, it explains some of how Childermass acts. It's terrible being the one people turn to for guidance, and for a man so fond of disappearing in shadows, that attention is like standing under bright, unforgiving light.

"That's how these things work. He's going to have his work cut out for him just getting them to give him the time of day."

Strange takes another larger drink of his portion of the faerie ale. It's still a bit sharp and he's still getting used to the taste, but he could see himself getting properly wasted on this stuff.

He can't help but look a little guilty as Lambert mentions the very obvious fact that poor Childermass is in for a time and a half. He didn't mean to get cursed and fuck off to who knows where. It just happened.

"He knew me, knew Norrell, and was at the edges of all of this mess. Hopefully he can use that as leverage." And if not, Strange knows that Childermass has another ace up his sleeve: the book of the Raven King. Something that won't mean anything to Lambert, which is why Strange is keeping it to himself as they talk.

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[open] december will be magic again

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