⇨ SHOW'S OVER

[ringleaders]

Who: Everyone who DIDN’T get caught up in CY-Ren’s music, D13-D14.
When: D13-D15
Where: Wismuth, the Carnival
What: Recovering, taking stock, and trying to figure out where to go from here.
Warnings: ? ? ?

FALLEN STARS↴ ► AFTERMATH: After the culmination of the confrontation between Noa and CY-Ren — as much as it can be called one, since it ends with the Guardian being flung off the stage — the arena returns to darkness. After a few seconds of silence, the backup lighting sputters on, but instead of music a loudspeaker begins to blare loudly: ATTENTION, FANTASIA FESTIVAL ATTENDANTS. DUE TO AN EMERGENCY, WE WILL BE EVACUATING THE VENUE. PLEASE FOLLOW STAFF DIRECTIONS AND PROCEED TO THE NEAREST EXIT. THANK YOU. The pleasant, automated woman’s voice begins to play on loop as the concertgoers, snapped out of their trance, look at each other in confusion. The Void creatures that had come out at CY-Ren’s command are nowhere to be seen now, and neither is the singer herself. Wismuth police officers, though they look as uncertain and dazed as half the audience seems to be, break up the crowd and directing them to file out of the Fantasia Festival’s exits. It’s easy enough for Carnival members to slip away, though as they go through the crowd they’ll hear the festivalgoers discussing anything but the sight of Guardian and Harbinger in combat, much less people being dragged into shadows… “Right in the middle of CY-Ren’s set, too! Aren’t they supposed to check the wiring on these things?” “I paid to go to a concert, not a fire drill! I’d better get a refund!” “They didn’t have to shut the whole place down—" In the chaos and flow of people, it’ll be hard for Carnival workers to keep track of each other, but one thing is clear: they can’t stay here. ► HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN: The would-be saboteurs and those who’ve stayed behind have a chance to meet up again once they get back to the Carnival’s grounds. However, what exactly happened back there is unclear — and the one who might have answers is still unconscious from her brief altercation with the Harbinger. Still, there’s no shortage of things to do: after all, once they get back, it’s obvious there are more than a few missing faces. ► HEADLINES: Anyone who ventures to Wismuth in the days after the festival will find something peculiar: all news about the incident at the festival has been written off as a freak fire from some faulty wiring or a potential incendiary device, which reporters say police are ‘investigating the cause of’ and which some of the more sensational news sites are already having a field day with (based on rumors and hearsay the venue may have received a bomb threat). Most entertainment sites and social media coverage of the event only include blurry clips with captions like ‘tmw you fucked up the only vid you have of cy-ren’s concert 😭fml' and generally agree that it's a pity she never got past a second song.

Comments

[lonesomewanderer]

If anything got Solas' attention, it's that name. His hand stills in its movements for a moment and he grows more alert. So she had been among those lost. He takes a deep, careful breath before he brings his magic forth to help stave back the poison. At least long enough to make it easier for seed removal.

"Lavellan was lost? Are you certain?" Was she answering her radio? Perhaps she had chased after those who started the commotion.

[whattaprick]

"I'm sure," Lambert confirms. "They took her before I could reach her ... and she wasn't the only one."

He looks grim at that, though he'll glance down at the inevitable ruin his arm's likely to become and then back up at the elf.

"She a friend?" Not that he was going to assume all elves were friends, but...

[lonesomewanderer]

"She is someone I knew before I came here," which is the most he is willing to answer. He punctuates the statement with an incision to remove yet another seed from the man's arm.

"Do you know how many were taken in total?"

[whattaprick]

That’s not a real answer, but Lambert isn’t inclined to press the guy slicing him open and patching him up again after.

“Not yet,” he says, sucking a breath in between his teeth. “We probably won’t, until Strange is done scrying for everyone.”

[lonesomewanderer]

"So the man does have his uses," he says with a shake of his head. Solas had made his acquaintance with Strange and while the man had good magical potential, Solas wasn't impressed.

And because Solas doesn't trust Strange to actually complete his task, "Does he require assistance to quicken his process?"

[whattaprick]

"If you can scry, sure." Lambert answers, shrugging -- only remembering to keep that to one shoulder and not the arm Solas is working on at the last minute.

It doesn't occur to him Strange might take offense to this, but as far as Lambert's concerned, having more eyes and more magic on the job can't hurt.

"Though if you could do that in the first place, why'd you end up a medic instead of a scout?"

[lonesomewanderer]

"Because the Ringmaster has a sense of humor," he returns dryly. It has nothing to do with his bedside manner, that's for sure. He pauses as he reaches for gauze to clean Lambert's arm. As much as it can be cleaned, anyway, and for him to continue working.

"From what I have heard, there has been a need for more healers." And from what he's heard of the Carnival's travels, he wonders how they made do. "It is fortunate healing is an art I am practiced at."

[whattaprick]

"She does," Lambert affirms, offhanded. "She made me a nurse." For all of two weeks, then he became the Nightrider. But that much might explain why he's familiar enough with the place ... that, or he sees the inside of the medical tent a lot. Either or, really.

"Our old doctor used to be a zebra. Good enough at her job... considering she had hooves."

[lonesomewanderer]

"You, a nurse?" The question is accompanied by a long stare and the image almost gets a huff of amusement from him. Almost. From the little he knows of Lambert, the man would get more killed than he would aid.

"Perhaps they are not in such a dire need if they were willing to relinquish you from such duties," he muses with a shake of his head. As for their old doctor, well. "A shapeshifter?"

[whattaprick]

"What, don't I look like I've got a tender touch?" Despite the situation and the scent of his own blood in the air -- hardly the first time he's had to deal with it -- Lambert manages a crooked little smirk.

"The Ringmaster decided I was better off put to work stabbing things. Or telling people to stab things." He shakes his head. "She was a zebra."

If Solas even knows what that is.

[lonesomewanderer]

The mention of 'hooves' gives him enough of an impression. A zebra must be similar to a horse or a halla. Trying to imagine either acting as a healer in any capacity is... impossible, to say the least.

"You have certainly found your calling," he says beneath his breath though he makes no attempt to hide his words. ANd because he's curious, he goes against his better judgment to ask, "How did a hooved creature manage?"

[whattaprick]

"Should hope so, since I was trained to it," Lambert answers cheerfully, fuzzy boar-ears flicking. Chances are, even if Solas had elected to keep his voice low, he would have been able to pick it out ... so all in all, doesn't make much of a difference either way.

"And she was a magic zebra, obviously," Lambert answers, wiggling the fingers of the arm that isn't currently getting sliced open and dug around in. Probably supposed to mimic magic gesturing or something like it. "Don't ask me how that worked."

[lonesomewanderer]

If that was how Lambert thought magic was done, it was a wonder Lambert held his own against fae magic. Enough to remain standing after a fight with one, at least. Solas drops another seed into a growing pile of them.

"You will find my curiosity is not so easily sated." He eyes Lambert for a moment as if considering something before speaking again. "You could provide a live demonstration. Once your arm is sewn shut." And maybe he wants to see if he can get the human to make a fool of himself.