lostcarnival | the terrible horrible no good very bad week

Entry tags:

the terrible horrible no good very bad week

Who: Strange & OPEN!
Where: mostly the carnival, with a Wismuth prompt
When: D17 and onwards
What: Strange has had a run of shitty days/decisions and is coping like a champ (he's sulking)
Warnings: mild drug & alcohol use, Strange's general asshole tendencies

sulking at the training grounds
Over the past few days, Strange learned that the closest thing he could call to an enemy was back and she had poisoned his best friend, found out his other close friend was kidnapped and enthralled, got dunked in a lake, got his emotional support gem stolen, got dunked in the ocean, made a kid cry, discovered he had a fun new phobia of sentient pineapple beasts, got gum in his hair, and received harsh truth bombs from at least two different people. And only half of this is his fault! (Maybe five-eighths. Strange'll fight it if anyone says three quarters.)

To top it all off, apparently the entire universe is in danger of ending and Creation's decided to fix that by giving people fun magical powers but apparently the universe doesn't think he's good enough! Like what the hell, Creation? As if his self-esteem wasn't already weirdly low thanks to the fact that he got beaten up by plants and the previously mentioned harsh truth bombs.

So, Strange is coping with pyromania. At least four of the practice dummies are currently on fire and have been on fire for the past half hour or so. Strange is in the process of casting a spell to set a fifth ablaze. Anybody who remotely approaches the training ground is getting an amazing death glare courtesy of Strange, as well as a grumpy "What?"

sulking part 2
Alternatively, there's an abundance of purple smoke hanging out near the top of one of the game trailers in the gamer's circle. Can smoke sulk? Undecided, but there's certainly something sulky about this smoke. It's definitely lingering around the top of the trailer and not moving in a manner that's reminiscent of sulking.

welcome to the plot
For the most part, Star Guardians need to sleep too. As does Strange But considering that Strange lives a comfortable life as the man with the world's most erratic sleep schedule, his is variable as hell and he's wide awake at around ten pm, when most people should be getting ready for bed. He's wide awake as he bangs on the trailer door of each inhabited trailer, hoping that someone's in.

He doesn't waste any time. Whenever anyone answers their door, Strange bluntly asks, "Did you get those odd powers like what Noa has?"

Fuck it, he knows about pillars, he can still be useful.

wismuth
Staying at the carnival and not getting out of bed just sounds like a really good plan right now. Except Strange is a nightrunner and when you're rooming with the deputy nightrider, you can only wallow in self-pity for so long. Scrying can only do so much so he's hitting the pavement. As he walks the streets (wearing a slightly ridiculous baseball cap), Strange keeps his senses open for any sort of magic: guardian, harbinger, fae. He's already gotten his ass whooped twice, any sort of large spikes of harbinger magic he is staying the hell away from. But it's the smaller things, the after effects that he can at least try to dispel.

And so, that's why Strange is standing next to an ATM that's currently spitting out cash, muttering something while debating if he's actually got to put his mouth on that thing or not. Thankfully, the machine sputters to a stop and the spell breaks before Strange has to actually kiss the box.

"I don't even know what this is," he complains, to anyone listening. Foggy modern AU memories can only go so far and did not extend to ATMs. But look at him go, stopping the horrible...money spitter outer machine. Greatest magician of the age, everyone.

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For all of his griping about how he's an adult and he's a grown man and he's older than everybody else, there are moments where Jonathan Strange is a goddamn child. This is one of them, as he tries to grab onto Syrlya's hand and practically drag him towards the skee-ball game.

"Skee-ball! You take the ball, roll it up a slope, and try to land it in one of the holes. The smaller the hole, the more points you get. It's quite fun and I've gotten rather good at it."

Sorry, Strange. Pig's as much a victim of Creation's whims as the rest of anyone, and her tiny-eyed stare back is as calm as it ever is when she looms over Strange at her original height.

"You can feel the power of Creation in this world, can't you?" she asks Strange. "It's all around us, and yet they're blind to it. This is just more of the same."

Possibly. Pig doesn't know for sure. But it does sound like a nice theory, doesn't it?

"You just need a decent clean up," he says with no really backing to it this time around, "But you are off the market and that wouldn't do well for those willing to fawn over you." His makes a face as Strange runs his hand through his hair. There's something in it and he'll reach out to touch him without really asking for permission. His hand passes right through Strange's hair, power activated, and all he really retrieves is bits of gum here and there, "A proper hair cut perhaps as well."

If he was more vain than he already was he might not understand how someone like Strange got someone like Arabella. He just knows there is far more to this man than he usually seems. There had to be something about him she liked.

Syrlya isn't used to being physically accosted like this, so Strange has no problem catching him off guard enough to grab his hand and yank him along. Syrlya stumbles for a moment before catching his balance.

"That sounds like a carnival game." And as his gaze drifts over to where Strange is taking him, it looks like a carnival game. Except, somehow, with even more flashing lights.

"That's right, I can. And half the people who were turned into Guardians probably couldn't feel it to begin with!"

Creation is dumb, Pig's dumb, Harbingers are dumb, this entire thing is so dumb and so stupid for not having picked him in the first place! The more Strange talks, the more intensely annoyed he's getting.

"Lambert doesn't even want this in the first place!"

At least, he's assuming Lambert doesn't want it.

"They do share some similarities," Strange admits. As they reach the game, Strange hits the start button...and nothing happens. He frowns, looking the game over. At the same time, a little eight year old walks over to the skee ball game next to theirs, inserts the token, hits start, and some balls fall down the ball dispenser. Ah ha. Mystery solved.

"This game runs on tokens," Strange muses. "We'll probably have to purchase them ourselves. That is, if you want to stay here."

Strange's words are calm and cavalier enough, but there's definitely a little whiny undercurrent of 'come on Syrlya, pleeeeeeeease' in his tone of voice. They have skee ball! Come onnnnn!

As Tyki reaches over to touch his hair, Strange's expression is pure 'what the hell'. This is a little too close for comfort, buddy! At least tell him what you're doing next time!

"I thought I had gotten all of that out," Strange complains, with a little sigh. Still, he deliberately takes a few steps away from Tyki. To no one's surprise, it turns out that someone running their fingers through your hair when you least expect it isn't a good feeling. Strange likes Tyki but they aren't that close.

"Anyway, my hair's fine. I trim it myself every now and then. I wouldn't want to confuse anyone in one of these worlds if the glamor wore off." While Strange's hair is still very humanlike, the gray in it has turned reflective. He's got no idea if the Ringmaster's glamor extends to things like fingernail or hair trimmings, but Strange doesn't want to find out.

"Of course I don't want it!" Lambert interjects, gesticulating wildly down at his everything. "Come on! Do you really think I'd choose this?"

"You accepted the power when it was offered to you," Pig answers, unruffled.

"That's because I was about to get hit in the face!"

"Nevertheless, you are the Guardian of Freedom now," his familiar answers, implacable and remorseless in the face of Lambert's sputtering protests. "However you came by it, you must see it through. To fight for Creation-- to preserve life."

"You were my horse," Lambert groans into his fingers, having buried his face into his hands at some point in the middle of the familiar's little speech. Why is this happening to him?

"Can't the power be swapped or transferred over or something like that? I want it. And I'd be better at it than Lambert would," Strange pleads, looking over at Pig. Just begging a tiny horse to give him magic, what the hell has his life become.

Because amazing magical powers? Of course he wants it! Strange'll even suffer though the indignity of booty shorts, lord knows he's been through worse in his life.

Had it been something more invasive, such as reaching inside of his body, he would have said something. It'll be a cold day in hell the moment Tyki stops invading people's personal space whenever he feels like it. He's not as arrogant as Strange to think he's entitled to do what he wants with other people's bodies but it's a thing.

"I don't even want to know what this is," he says with mild disdain as it drops through his fingers onto the ground. His gaze does flick down at Strange stepping away and thankfully he's good enough at reading body language to get the message not to close the gap again.

He trims it himself? That says a few things. "I can't afford to make a mistake should I try to do it myself. I am the frontal image of my family and the head of our household is an Earl." His hand waves a little in momentary indecision, "Star Guardian wise, I don't think Creation would care if it decided to redo your look."

"I don't mind." He shrugs, although his expression is more amused than his tone lets on. He can hear that whine. It's the same tone Taimi goes him sometimes, although he's sure Strange wouldn't appreciate being compared to a teenager. Humans are weird about age.

So he starts pulling his allowance out of his pockets... and it's almost the entirety of what the Ringmaster allotted to them. He hasn't been spend8ng much at all. "Do you see where you purchase them?"

"It's not that hard," Strange explains, with a little shrug. At least, it's not that hard to someone who doesn't really care about his personal appearance like Strange does. His hair's perpetually a bit too long and a bit too shaggy. As long as it's mostly even and doesn't tickle his neck too much, he can deal with any mistakes.

"Besides, if you want to learn, no better time than now! We're at a magical carnival. Ask around and I'm sure someone's got a hair tonic or a spell to make things grow or something of that sort."

The fact that Syrlya still has so much money left doesn't escape Strange's notice. Well. It seems that this trip was definitely needed: did Syrlya spent any of that allowance to begin with? He'll need to take it upon himself to make certain the man actually has fun at any of their stops.

"I'd assume at the front desk," Strange responds, as he looks over to the prize counter, currently manned by a very bored looking teenager. Though it's obvious he's not entirely certain about that. "And if not there, we can at least ask and get a good look at the prizes."

Strange's judgement of his remaining funds is utterly lost on Syrlya, but at least it means they can buy a shitton of tokens. He folds the bills nearly in his hands, looking at the front desk with a thoughtful hum. "Then let's ask."

He turns on his heels to approach the desk, offering the teenager a polite smile, pressing one hand against the counter. To his credit, with short conservation he doesn't look terribly out of place.

He cranes his head to look back at Strange as he holds out the money. "How many did you want?"

"Maybe after the boys have learned some manners," he says casually when referring to his tentacles. Tyki's too lazy to pick up too many spells at once unless something interests him. "Besides, Miss Doll cut my hair the last time I had an issue." And he did love to delegate his tedious tasks onto others. Unlike Strange's hair Tyki's extended down his back to about his shoulder blades with a mess of elegant curls.

"If I learn any spell willing it'll be something useful or convenient. Probably not fire or turning anyone into chickens~"

As Syrlya approaches the desk, Strange's attention goes straight to this slightly silly-looking stuffed seal. He wants that. After some quick sums in his head (four tokens to a dollar, assuming he wins five tickets per game and each game costs two tokens, combine that with what he has...), Strange answers.

"I'll spend about seven dollars worth of tickets to start with. Of course, I can pay for mine myself, you only purchase what you want."

That should be enough, right? He'll have enough to pay for food and he'll have some money left over if he needs to spend more but he is going to win that seal no matter what.

Syrlya looks between Strange and the cashier for a moment. "I suppose I'll start with seven dollar's worth as well."

It means they'll run the same amount of games, at least, and figure out where to go from there. He does give the prize wall a cursory glance while the teenager cashes out the tokens, but for someone used to always moving on his feet or keeping sentimental objects of the dead, with no room to be very material, he's less invested in aiming for a specific prize.

He juggles them in one hand when they're passed over, stepping aside to give Strange room to grab his tokens.

"I'm afraid not," Pig answers. And then, not unkindly-- "Perhaps you simply don't have the qualities Creation is looking for."

Like, say, a survival instinct.

"Chickens is just applied transmutation," Strange explains, with a little shrug. He's owning that, ain't no shame, Tyki knows there's all sorts of other impressive magic Strange can perform that isn't turning people into chickens (and how many people in the carnival could turn others into chickens in the first place, that's right, nobody, suck it carnival members.)

"I can turn other people into other things that aren't poultry. It's just the turning back part that I have trouble with."

Jonathan 'packrat tendencies' Strange is straight up gunning for that prize. He steps to the cashier, pays him, and then takes his tokens as well. Once that's done, Strange looks back at the expanse of Chuck E Cheese and all the games they have to offer...and all the eight year olds running around the place. He suddenly feels very tall.

"So! Shall we start with skee-ball first, or is there something else that catches your attention?"

The games consist of a wide assortment of arcade games. There's typical arcade games like skee-ball, a basketball game, and a crane game, but there's also one or two shooting games (with stylized cartoon guns), a few 'press the button to stop the light in a certain place' games, and two stations of Dance Dance Revolution.

Strange is severely tempted to punch this dumb horse in her dumb little horse head. He's clenching his fists, glaring at Pig and just generally looking like he's straight up going to get in a fight with a tiny little magical horse.

"And just what qualities do the other Guardians have that I don't?" he hisses.

"You seemed very eager for the 'skee-ball'." He almost mimics the way Strange says it, smiling just a bit as he gestures back to the game. "Why don't we start with that and choose something else after?"

Let Strange get a little bit of that eagerness out of his system... of just let it lead their whole afternoon. He's experienced arguing with Strange and it's the last thing from relaxing.

He's chuckling under his breath at the way he's presenting this knowledge. Tyki's stepping closer again in his excitement as his entire body leans forwards. His hands are spread wide including his bloody one, "Can you do it easily or is it something you're still working on?"

He does take note of the latter information, "Rabbits, dogs, birds, cats?"

Strange isn't even bothering to hide his excitement at the thought of playing skee-ball. And so, they make their way back to the machine and Strange inserts his tokens. Nine or so balls are released down the ball chute. Picking one up, Strange gives Syrlya a grin.

"Watch and learn," Strange continues. And so, he starts playing. And weirdly enough, he's actually decent at skee-ball. The high score is 270 and Strange racks up a solid 240. He looks pleased with himself as the ticket machine dispenses his winnings.

"Your turn," he says, backing up so Syrlya can have a go at the machine.

Fleshy puts her other hand on the other side of Strange's face, and then proceeds to very very gently grip his cheeks while gurgling softly. They are best friends now.

"You do mean things ALL THE TIME," Peridot says loudly, still talking from the floor.

There are no usable bowls immediately visible in this trailer, but Strange will find a random frisbee on the counter, and that will just have to do.

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the terrible horrible no good very bad week

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