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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Rita gives him a weird look when he goes out of his way to open the door for her. It's an odd reminder that this obnoxious old man is also sort of a gentleman. Sometimes.

"Hmph... so there are limits to that form of yours. That'll be good to know, next time you decide to run your mouth too much." Rita's still salty over how few hits she was able to land on him, back at the training yard.

They step into a hallway marked for employees only, then out into the food court proper. Some of the commotion seems to have died down with no visible developments to gawk at, but many people still loiter about, content to stay nearby just in case something else exciting happens.

The next time he runs his mouth? Strange frowns for a moment before he connects the dots with what Rita's referencing. He gives her an ironic little smile before the mild teasing starts back up.

"Yes, but I wonder what will run out first: my endurance or your patience?" Strange knows that it's his endurance but hey, might as well give Rita a bit of shit while he can.

When they're in the food court proper, Strange makes a beeline for the obligatory greasy pizza place that every food court has. There's a few people in line so, he starts to wait, assuming that Rita's going to wait with him.

Well... Rita doesn't have anything pressing to do right this instant, nor did she eat before running over here... so whatever. She'll stick around for a meal.

There are a few pizzas sitting on display, some with slices missing, presumably having been sold to other customers. Rita looks over the labels. Pepperoni, veggie, cheese, meat lovers, Hawaiian...

"What's 'Hawaiian'?" she whispers to Strange.

Strange is looking between the veggie and cheese pizzas, deciding which of those two he's going to pick out, when Rita asks her question. He whispers back, so as not to embarrass Rita too much,

"It's an island in the Pacific. I've no idea what it has to do with pizza, as I haven't been there myself—"

But then he cuts himself off. Because there's pineapple on that Hawaiian pizza. He went literal months without having to possibly deal with pineapple and now he's encountered it twice in a few weeks? Strange's expression shifts to a frown, as he shudders slightly and gives the pineapple pizza a look.

"Don't get Hawaiian, it looks disgusting."

Rita raises an eyebrow at that reaction, then gives the offending pizza another look, trying to determine what could possibly be so offensive about it.

"Just looks like meat and pineapple to me," she says plainly, not seeing the issue.

Francis, ignoring the conversation at hand, hops up onto Rita's shoulder and stares at the pizzas.

"Exactly!" Strange responds, with an aggravated hrmph. "Why would someone ruin a perfectly fine pizza by putting pineapple on it?"

This is obviously a point of consternation as Strange just looks at the pizza like it has somehow personally offended him. Urgh, and the pizzas sitting next to it probably smell like pineapple also.

As Strange is too busy whining about the existence of pineapple, he's not paying any attention to Francis.

"Who cares? It's edible, and it's all the same mush when it hits your stomach, anyway." Also, Rita actually likes pineapple. Maybe she'll get that one after all. Getting under Strange's skin would just be a bonus.

Francis, feeling ignored, lets out a demanding meow. He waves a paw in the direction of the meat pizzas.

Strange continues to ignore Francis for the sake of having a dumb argument with Rita. She's defending pineapple, this shall not stand.

"Grass and burnt food are edible and yet you don't eat those. It's perfectly reasonable to not want to eat something as it tastes disgusting." His tone is pure 'duh, Rita', this is an obvious fact in Strange's mind. So what if it's all the same when it hits your stomach, you still have to taste it in the first place.

"Pineapple isn't disgusting. You're just picky," Rita casually retorts. Seriously, what kind of adult gets this bent out of shape over food?

Francis's meowing grows louder as he tries to interject into the argument.

Meanwhile, it seems they've reached the front of the line. The cashier, a young-looking guy with dark hair, asks cautiously, "Uh... Are you two ready to order, or...?"

Strange is about to continue arguing when the cashier speaks up. Oh yeah, food.

"I'd like a slice of cheese pizza and a large Mountain Dew, please," Strange chimes in, with a little nod. Everybody should be thankful that the carnival doesn't have vending machines because Strange's taste in food has straight up slipped to garbage. Thanks, Wismuth.

He steps out of the way, letting Rita go to the cashier and order her food. It's at this point that he notices Francis...and hmm. Would they get in trouble if there's a cat at the mall? But how is he going to ask Rita that without drawing attention to said cat?

The cashier processes Strange's order, then beckons Rita over the counter.

"I'll have the Hawaiian, with a cola," she tells him, casting a short glance to Strange before grimacing suddenly, her shoulders tensing. Looking back to the cashier, she adds, "...and a slice of meat lover's." Francis promptly retracts his claws from her shoulder and starts purring.

Fortunately, the teenager working fast food in the mall doesn't get paid enough to worry about a little rule-breaking, and while he definitely seems to stare at the cat on Rita's shoulder as she pays, he doesn't say a word. Before long, both their orders are set out on trays for them to grab, and the cashier's moved on to the next customer.

Strange has his drink while Rita makes her order. As such, he downright chokes a little on the drink when Rita mentions Hawaiian. She's doing this just to spite him! If he had just kept his damn mouth shut, she'd have ordered something different! It never really occurs to Strange that Rita would be ordering it because she likes pineapple because obviously nobody likes pineapple.

So, they've got their food. And the mall food court awaits them. Sitting down at one of the tables, Strange gives Rita's pizza one last glare before deciding that no, he's not going to focus on that, he's just going to eat his slice and not look at pineapples in the slightest!

Besides, he's got another question. "Can Francis eat his entire slice? It is rather big for him."

As Rita sits, she places the meat pizza a little ways away from her tray. Francis hops down onto the table, walks a circle around the plate, then hunches down and starts nibbling happily at the corner of the pizza.

"Hell if I know. But with all the work he's put in this week, I guess he's earned the right to try."

Rita lifts up her own slice and takes an experimental bite out of it. It doesn't taste quite like she expected... but it's not bad.

That's right, he has put in work this week. Strange saw Francis helping out with that freezer debacle. And, if Francis's relationship with Rita was anything like Pig's relationship with Lambert, there was probably a lot of explaining and fussing and no Rita, Creation doesn't work that way.

He takes a bite of his slice. He did miss his home tremendously, but there were certain aspects of the carnival and the worlds they visited that Strange knew he'd miss when he returned. Pizza is one of them. Thankfully, Strange chews and swallows before talking.

"In my world, they had stories of magicians calling upon something else for help," Strange muses, with a little nod at Francis. "Granted, my world's helpers were faerie servants not fussy cats, but I wonder how widespread that concept is."

"Huh..." Rita hums as she takes a sip of her soda. "We don't have anything like that back home... but maybe Francis can keep helping out after this Void crap's all done and dealt with." Creation might have instilled in Francis the knowledge needed to guide her, but Rita knows her cat has always been clever. He even saved her life once or twice this week.

"Lambert once said that cats are supposedly able to absorb magic, in a way that other animals can't. If that's true, he'd probably make a great mage's assistant."

The Litten's ears twitch, indicating that he hears them talking about him, but he doesn't look up from the pizza.

"Perhaps I should get a cat when all this is done," Strange muses, as he looks over at Francis. Of course, that idle thinking doesn't take into account the ten billion factors that would prevent him from getting a cat back home (pillar of darkness, trapped who knows where, Norrell would probably pitch a fit, and so on).

Though cats absorbing magic? That's...new. Strange knew Lambert's world was odd, but this is a whole new sort of odd.

"And this is all cats? Did he tell you how they could absorb magic in the first place?"

Rita, in the midst of chewing another bite of pizza, shakes her head and swallows. "No. I doubt he understands it all that well himself, except that it might help explain why cats hate witchers."

It's yet another line of questions that would probably be best answered by a sorcerer from Lambert's world... if Rita could ever meet one.

"They do?" That's something Strange never picked up on. He frowns for a moment, thinking that piece of new information over.

"But he worked at a cat cafe in Portland." Granted, Lambert wasn't a witcher in Portland, but the thought remains! That's weird and doesn't really make sense. Maybe magic had a sense of humor? It would explain some of the changes or screw-ups people went through in the carnival.

"That..." Rita begins, like she has some kind of explanation, but she quickly realizes that no, she does not know how to explain that. "That is pretty weird," she ends up agreeing. It goes to show that their Portland selves really were different people...

Well, it's probably best if they don't go too deep into that topic right now.

She takes another bite of pizza, then seems to realize something. "Right... I was going to tell you. I finished the first full draft of the book I'm writing. You can come take a look sometime, if you want."

Almost instantly, Strange perks up. Because books? Hell yeah books. He's always been interested in Rita's blastia magic, the fact that she's finally gotten that draft done is music to his ears.

"When all this is over, I'll stop by your trailer," said with a vague gesture. By 'all this', Strange means 'this Wismuth nonsense' but there's really no way to accurately sum up the current chaos without sounding a little disparaging. "Though before I critique your work, I do have a question: what's your opinion on notes in the margins?"

It's a serious question. Plenty of dumb fights have been waged between Strange and Norrell over things like 'disparaging notes in the margins' or 'dogearing the pages.' (And of course he's going to critique her work, Strange wouldn't just read the draft without offering some sort of petty opinion.)

Rita gives him a long, contemplative look. Strange does seem like the kind of guy who'd leave a lot of long-winded comments...

"I'll give you some sticky notes you can use," she decides. That way, he can write to his heart's content without cluttering Rita's own writing. "I got some from the bookstore here. They had some useful-looking stationery." Says the girl who definitely bought some cat-shaped paperclips while she was at it.

He's going to leave so many pedantic nitpicks. Still, sticky notes is enough to content Strange and he gives Rita a little nod.

"I hope you know that I won't be gentle. Still, I've a feeling you want honest critique." They're both magicians, after all. Any excuse to be nerdy about magic is a good excuse. And who else in the carnival would be patient enough to read Rita's book and learned enough to actually offer slightly useful critique?

Well, there is Childermass, but aside from that, Strange is confident that it's just the two of them.

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the terrible horrible no good very bad week

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