kingsroads: (why is norrell like this)
Jonathan Strange ([personal profile] kingsroads) wrote in [community profile] lostcarnival2018-02-14 11:40 pm

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.
whattaprick: (??? da fuq ???)

wismuth; the 16th

[personal profile] whattaprick 2018-02-15 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
There's some magical bullshit going on, and Lambert doesn't like it.

Still, when it comes to magical bullshit, he's at least lucky enough to know the number one expert. That means after a short, maybe slightly frantic call to Strange to confirm his location ("And stay there," Lambert snarls into the radio, before slamming the connection shut) it won't be long before Strange hears the revving of a motorcycle engine.

With a screech of tires as it skids to a stop, a sleek red-and-gold motorcycle pulls up to wherever Strange is at, a wild-eyed Lambert straddling it. He looks ... well, eye-catching is the least of it. Most of his clothing seems to be some level of 'skin-tight,' 'gold-sequined' or both, and there isn't very much of it. And he's -- brimming with magic, and so is his bike, both burning like stars in the dimming sunlight.

"Strange," Lambert says, with no preamble, "What the fuck is happening?"

"Lambert," the sound of a woman's voice, gently sighing, comes from the motorcycle. "If you'd let me explain--"

Lambert blanches, scrambling off his ride and turning to face it head-on, comically flustered as his tail stands ramrod-straight behind him. "You shouldn't even be able to talk!" He yells, throwing his hands up.
Edited 2018-02-15 15:47 (UTC)
whattaprick: (nyeh nyeh)

[personal profile] whattaprick 2018-02-16 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Strange smells like he's been dragged backwards through tropical punch, overwhelmingly sweet and cloying -- and, if Lambert is any judge, probably disgustingly sticky to match. The witcher shoots the magician a look that, while it isn't exactly panicked, definitely has an edge of being hunted to it.

"It could have told me what it was shoving on me first!" Sure, sure, Creation had intimated something vague about protecting life, but it just had to do it then, didn't it? It's like the Earth Spirit all over again. Lambert raises a hand to scrub through his hair, cursing when his claws get caught on his goggles instead.

With a shower of sparkles, the motorcycle dissolves, coalescing into what looks like a miniaturized pony toy with golden hooves and an impassive expression. Although she's much smaller and less intimidating than she normally is, there's something about here that will feel like Strange has seen her before...

"Strange is right," she says, calmly, unruffled by Lambert's sputtering. "The sooner you accept this, the sooner we can get to work."

"See that?" Lambert hisses, pointing wildly. "Creation turned Pig into this."
whattaprick: (back the fuck up)

[personal profile] whattaprick 2018-02-17 11:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Third eye ain't seeing shit but a lot of magic. On the bright side, that does make it harder to see his costume, which given the present circumstances can only be a blessing. As Strange walks around him, Lambert's head jerks to follow, eyes narrowed, tail curled self-consciously. It's really not his best look.

Pig sighs. "I'm here to guide Lambert. I suppose Creation thought it would be easier if it was something he was already used to..."

"Then maybe it should've picked Strange instead," Lambert grouses, before he frowns. "What happened to you, anyway?"

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periphrasing: (Death by ennui)

Welcome to the plooootttt (this is before Peridot becomes a familiar)

[personal profile] periphrasing 2018-02-15 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Good for Strange, getting himself out of the Sulk Zone. Peridot is not so lucky. She is firmly still planted in there, bitter and angry and outraged that Creation snubbed her for Guardianship and picked a HUGE JERK like Jasper to join it's ranks instead. What the heck does Jasper even have to offer to Creation!? PUNCHING? Peridot is the bright, inquisitive one who actually gives a damn about the people that are missing! Creation done fucked up.

The sulking is extra sad because she's just sitting around a supervisor-sized trailer all by herself while she's doing it, her roommate's conspicuous absence a constant reminder of what she's lost to the Void. Thus, when she answers the door to Strange, she looks like a goddamn mess: Her usually perfectly geometric hair is rumpled and frazzled, her bow-tie is askew, and she has massive bags under her eyes. Her dead-eyed expression doesn't even change when she stares past the sliver of door she's holding open and sees him standing there.

"No," is all she says, her tone flat and her voice raspy, like she hasn't used it in a few days.
periphrasing: (Jasper's fukkin hot.)

[personal profile] periphrasing 2018-02-15 05:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Normally Peridot wouldn't see the point in partaking in such substances, but. She gives so little of a shit about anything right now that it just takes her a brief pause before she grunts, "Yeah, okay," and opens the door the rest of the way. Complaining sounds ideal, whether she partakes in the offered substances or not.

She leaves the door hanging open behind her and assumes that he'll take that as invitation to follow her in. Where she heads next is to the living area, tromping her way there with her shoulders sagged and her tail dragging limply on the floor behind her. Then she kind of just. trods up to an ottoman, pauses, and then flops forward, draping herself over it face down while Pumpkin and Fleshy both watch with concern from the associated armchair.

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prazerbutterfly: (ten seconds to breathe or run)

[personal profile] prazerbutterfly 2018-02-20 02:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Any hopes of Strange setting that last dummy on fire is quickly dashed by the sudden surge of Dark Matter leaving Tyki's hand. It screams forward, angry and violent, before slamming into the dummy and destroying it where it stands almost completely. The only thing remaining is the stake to which kept it standing.

While he hasn't had such a bad day as Strange's he did run into a few Harbingers and failed to capture any of them. Even with Zangetsu's valuable assistance and the fact the crazy hollow was likely lurking somewhere near by, he had come up short, gotten a few nasty wounds and allowed himself to feel a little less reckless than he probably should have been.

Strange will notice that hand still outstretched with a hint of a twitch of his fingers. The Dark Matter dies down quickly to a stand still as thick bandages wrap around his palm and up the side of his arm. Despite the rough patch work on his half, the red crimson smatter of blood has soaked through his palm from his run in earlier, "You look horrible, Mister Strange."
Edited (word assosciation) 2018-02-20 14:03 (UTC)
prazerbutterfly: (a little too fun)

[personal profile] prazerbutterfly 2018-02-20 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
He's no stranger to blood and wounds. In his world which was in constant war with his enemy battle brawls and all out fights often left cuts, bruises, broken bones, and lasting scars. It just never bothered him anymore. He couldn't say the same for most here. Not many could take even a punch without struggling to get back up.

"None that I trust," he says matter of fact, not that he trusted any in the first place, "Herb is gone, so is the kid they had, the new boy is off playing star guardian, then there is someone else." He snorts lightly as he leaves the spot he's at with a burst of speed. He's light on his feet as he launches himself upwards and roundhouse kicks at one of the dummies on fire. It's head goes flying like a fireball on the loose. On the edges of his toes he stands on the remain portion still on fire and allows the flames to caress his legs without harming him at all.

"It'll heal on its own either today or tomorrow."

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sunflowerfields: (To say)

Welcome to the plot we don't get to be cool kids

[personal profile] sunflowerfields 2018-02-20 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Who could that be at this hour? Anyone, to be honest. Hinawa has since grown used to the fact that no one here has a decent sleep schedule.

She opens the door and is met with Strange's bluntness. Instead of answering, she puts her hands on her hips. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
sunflowerfields: (You'll never know)

[personal profile] sunflowerfields 2018-02-21 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
The grown men here were worse than children.

"No, I do not have any 'powers' and I'm perfectly fine with that." She sighs. "Are you really going door to door asking everyone that?"

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chronosynthesis: (❖ Illusionary Riposte)

[personal profile] chronosynthesis 2018-02-28 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
There are so many children, Syrlya's actually boggling a little. He's never seen so many of them in one small, crowded, place--and they are loud. He looks aside to Strange, now a little incredulous about what kind of 'stress relieving activity' he's been dragged into.

"They have what?"
chronosynthesis: (❖ 12)

[personal profile] chronosynthesis 2018-02-28 07:48 am (UTC)(link)
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.

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anti_nonsense: (Can you say that again but less stupid?)

[personal profile] anti_nonsense 2018-03-02 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
Rita arrives in plain clothes with Francis trotting alongside her, looking unusually alert. She jogs to the kitchen to meet Strange, and upon seeing him, her gaze goes straight to the freezer.

True... there does seem to be some kind of Void magic emanating from within the freezer. But...

"Uh..." Rita looks over the scene with an uncertain frown. "Don't tell me you called me out here because there's a Harbinger who's making the freezer colder." Because that would quite possibly be the dumbest evil plan ever.
anti_nonsense: (read a book read a book)

[personal profile] anti_nonsense 2018-03-02 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
Someone's in there? There's a slight change in Rita's expression as she acknowledges how dangerous that is.

"...Got it. Guess we'd better be ready for anything," she decides, then touches her hand to her chest. If it's the Void they're up against, she'd best transform first.

In her hand, she grips her Spark, manifested in the form of an orange-jeweled amulet, like a blastia... then holds it up, conjuring a whirlwind of paper that rises around her, obscuring her form as her clothes disintegrate, then reform into a colorful Guardian uniform. The flying pages collect against the amulet and, with a flash of light, bind themselves into the shape of a large book.

Francis, during all of this, is magically bestowed with an orange-jeweled collar to match the book.

As the book floats in the air, Rita immediately sets about flipping through its pages. "I take it you've tried the lock already?" she asks as she searches through the pages, each covered with runes that look unintelligible at a glance.

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