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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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)

Strange's current shitlist
1: the entirety of Creation itself
2: CY-Ren
3: Childermass
4: Nightshade

Because seriously universe, what the hell? Lambert gets the fun cool new magical powers and Strange gets his stuff stolen and gets menaced by fruit?! What the fuck! This is stupid! Oh he can easily figure out what this is: Lambert's new magic seems to be the entire opposite of Childermass's and Steven's, feeling full compared to the empty magic of those two. Considering that it also looks close to Noa's, those are obvious enough signs that Lambert's one of the lucky assholes who's become a Star Guardian.

It doesn't explain why he has a talking motorcycle, though. That's new. Amethyst was a rabbit (actually, she was a cat), maybe somebody else was the motorcycle? The entirety of Creation is still at the top of Strange's shitlist but it at least earns a couple of karma points for not turning him into a car.

Talking motorcycle aside, this is dumb and Strange hates it. He briefly looks like he's going to pull his hair out in aggravation before he realizes this isn't Lambert's fault. Had he the choice of receiving dumb magical powers or not, he'd probably squarely pick 'not' (unless said dumb magical powers made him better at stabbing.)

"Magical power as great as this doesn't just get shoved on people," grumbles the person who has canonically shoved great magical power on some rando. "Creation chooses it's champions: it looks like you're a Star Guardian."

Now that Lambert's standing next to Strange, those enhanced witcher senses can pick up on the fact that Strange overwhelmingly smells like pineapples. Fuck you, porcupineapple.

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.

Strange also looks like a goddamn mess. His hair is sticking up in every direction, he's slept in his clothes, and he smells way too much like whatever floral soap he used to scrub off the scent of pineapples.

"I'm not either," he grumbles. Because while part of Strange badgering everybody is to tell any and all Star Guardians that surprise, you're part of saving the world now, the fact that Peridot's not one either is...refreshing? It's nice to know that there's another person stuck in normality with you. It's also nice to know that Peridot seems to hate all of this as much as he does.

"I've got a bottle of faerie ale and a joint's worth of faerie weed if you want to share either and complain about things." Friends introduce friends to their horrible coping methods. And considering that Steven's evil, Amethyst's evil, Connie's MIA and Lapis is MIA, Strange has a feeling Peridot might want alcohol and/or hallucinogens. At least, he knows he would.

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.

"Give me thirty seconds or so." Because technically the joint and booze are in Strange's trailer. And considering how little Peridot seems to want to move, Strange has made the executive decision that they're going to get drunk and/or high in her trailer. Thankfully, there's a mirror in this trailer somewhere, whether it's the bathroom or one of Peridot's morps. Strange vanishes through the mirror then reappears around fifteen seconds later with a joint in one hand and a bottle of booze in the other. He also returns to the concerned stares of Pumpkin and...some creepy weird fleshy critter.

Getting fucked up in front of the pets, alright, he can work with this.

As he sets the bottle of faerie ale near Peridot's prone form, Strange starts conjuring up a little flame to light the end of the joint. And so, the complaining starts. "I can't believe Lambert got that magic," Strange grumbles. "He whines about how he's not a magician every time I ask for clarification on one of his spells." He scoffs, though it's more out of grumpiness than outright maliciousness.

"I suspect he's set something on fire or broken something already."

Peridot doesn't react at first when Strange sets the bottle down and starts talking, but when he finishes complaining about Lambert, she makes a really loud scoffing sound into the ottoman and then lifts her head abruptly.

"Lambert? At least Lambert is trustworthy. You know who ALSO got selected for those powers?" She's grinning unpleasantly, even though there is absolutely nothing positive to her mood at the moment. She'll tell him before he even gets a chance to take a guess.

"Jasper. Cloddy, cruddy, huge jerk JASPER was chosen to fight the Void! Over ME! LIKE I'M SUPPOSED TO TRUST HER, WITH RESCUING LAPIS? OR STEVEN?"

Sorry Strange it just got really loud in here. Pumpkin and Fleshy are both cringing.

"She's the one who likes to punch things, correct? Steven's got those terrible little fruit monsters—no offense, Pumpkin," said with a little nod in the animal's general direction. "All she'd do is smush them to death."

Which, alright, if Jasper can step on every pineapple monster in Wismuth then she might have her uses. But how could that work for rescuing people?

"She'd need one of us with her to even accomplish anything remotely tactical," Strange grumbles. He's only had like one conversation with Jasper but if Peridot is shittalking Jasper, then Strange will join in the shittalking. He takes a small puff of the joint before offering it to Peridot. Strange still has Wismuth and chickengate on the mind, let's start things slowly.

Edited 2018-02-15 22:59 (UTC)

Pumpkin just barks and wags her weird vine tail, apparently taking no offense whatsoever at the comment. She knows she's vastly superior to Steven's other creations. Peridot tells her so all the time!

Peridot looks at the joint and considers it for a moment, before shaking her head no. Fae weed does actually affect her (and unlike with standard alcohol she doesn't need to mimic an organic to get the effects of it, thanks to it's magical potency), but... she's tried it before. The first (and last) time that she took a hit, she wound up spending the next 36 hours just totally fucked up. And by the time she finally reclaimed her sobriety? She'd gained her first set of physical changes. So yeah, she's not really willing to risk that again.

What she will do is slide off the poor piece of furniture that she's currently misusing, and pick up that bottle of faerie ale, considering it thoughtfully. She takes a breath, shaky with anger. "Basically. That's what I had to do during that awful hunt, when we..." Pause. Well. When they murdered the hell out of Lamboart. But hopefully Strange doesn't need her to specify that. "I had to accompany her to make sure she did things properly. And she HATES Steven and Lapis. Like, really, really, REALLY hates them."

As Peridot shakes her head, Strange shrugs. Hey, more for him then, and sucks to be Peridot who'll inevitably end up dealing with a giggly magician who's got the munchies.

He remains quiet as Peridot continues her explanation. Thankfully, Peridot doesn't have to specify what happened during the Hunt. So she ended up murdering the hell out of someone also: Strange stabbed the hell out of Susan-dragon. It sucked. A brief look of disgust flashes across Strange's face, more about the Hunt and the fact that it had to happen in the first place than about Peridot getting her murder on.

If Jasper can't kill someone properly, then what's the chance she'll actually be helpful in saving all of creation? "Creation really has no idea what it's doing if it leaves something this important to people like her."

And not to people like us is stated but not implied.

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."

"Oh my god, that's a talking horse." Wait. "That's Pig?!"

Strange just looks at the tiny talking horse with an expression of utter disbelief. Why is the horse talking? How does the horse know about Creation? What the hell is all this?! This situation just keeps getting more and more weird. Strange just stares, looking intently at Lambert, as if his third eye will somehow explain all this nonsense.

"If it helps, I had no idea Creation was this..." dumb? "...unique. All I knew was the bit about saving all of existence."

Not horses and outfits. Strange walks around Lambert to get a good look at the entire outfit. He really shouldn't be surprised that Lambert is showing off his butt AGAIN.

"Pretty much," Peridot agrees. Then she pops the top on the ale bottle and says: "I'm going to drink some of this now."

Soon as she says that, she changes into her dragon form, bottle still clasped in her claws. Gotta be organic really get the effects of that sweet sweet booze, right? The dragon form is, uh. Pretty large. And takes up a good portion of the living area, but she doesn't care. She is NOT drinking as a bat again.

Holy shit, large drunk dragon. As Peridot shifts to dragon form, Strange finds that he really doesn't have that much space anymore. There's a frown as Strange looks around before adjusting his position slightly, as he leans against Peridot's tail.

What to complain about next...Strange takes a puff from the joint before the complaining starts.

"I ran into Childermass and Steven. I put up a hell of a fight against both of them but that Harbinger magic is annoyingly powerful."

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?"

"It should have picked me to begin with," Strange grumbles as he looks over at Lambert's back. Because come on! Of course he should be the one to get the impressive magical powers to help save the world! He's the most qualified person in the carnival to do this nonsense, getting overlooked is (in his unbiased opinion) dumb as hell.

Though there is Pig...the horse is the new target of Strange's scrutiny as he stares at Pig. This horse is magical as heck and, once again, third eye ain't seeing shit.

Strange is so distracted by examining the magic while whining and complaining that he straight up doesn't get Lambert's inference. "Hmm?" he asks. "What do you mean what happened to me?"

The dragon lets out a rude, humorless bark of laughter. “Yeah? I ran into Steven too. He tried to dissipate my physical form, and then he chased me, and then he stabbed me.” Peridot ends that thought on a scowl, and then tips her head back and pours a good quarter of that bottle of ale right into her open mouth.

"He attacked me with pineapples," Strange scowls. 'Pineapples' is said with a tone of utter disgust. Strange shudders slightly, before taking another puff. The smoke from the joint is holographic, shimmering in the light.

Strange is so wrapped up in his grumpiness, he doesn't even remember to tell Peridot that the faerie ale hits HARD. If it's powerful enough to get a faerie drunk, it'll get the dragon hammered.

"Did he use those vines to stab you? They sting something fierce." As he bitches, Strange leans back slightly, using Peridot's tail as a back rest while he starts to stare at the ceiling.

"That's not how it works," Pig shakes her head, though she doesn't quite sigh. It's simply stating a fact, unwavering.

"You smell like someone doused you in fruit," is what Lambert says by way of clarification, tone plain, though ... that's not too different from what happened to him too. Only the magical outfit change is what's kept him from reeking the same way, though he's got no idea if that will hold one he changes back. If he can change back, he thinks uneasily. There's too much about this that's hard to deal with; the outfit is the least of it.

If that's not how it works then obviously it should work differently. But Strange doesn't know how to grab all of creation and force it to do what he wants...or if he can even do it in the first place. Someone's hitting a tiny crisis of confidence at the moment.

Lambert's question causes Strange to scowl. "Steven happened. He made some of those plant things to attack me. That damned pineapple one had it out for me-I had to explode it to get it to stop."

And the explosion happened all over Strange. Further proof that pineapples are evil incarnate.

"Yeah," she confirms, scowling; her voice is a bit gravelly from the burn of alcohol. "He ripped my wing open. It was pretty much the most horrible pain I've ever been in," she says like she's recounting a particularly boring day of work or something.

"I am so sorry," Strange responds, absolutely horrified. To have an injury like getting a wing ripped open would be horrific in itself but to have one of your closest friends do it? Absolutely awful.

"But you feel better now, correct? Did you see the medical tent or is this a gem thing?"

"It was fine once I stopped channeling the transformation spell and changed back into my basic form," she says, shrugging like it's no big thing, even though it absolutely was. Gotta look tough. "I did bleed for the first time in my life though. THAT sucked. I don't know how you humans deal with it."

Edited 2018-02-19 03:08 (UTC)

"Do you want to hear something terrible?" Strange starts. He's not waiting for an answer, Peridot is indeed going to hear something terrible as Strange launches right into said terrible thing with all the gusto of a teenage boy about to tell someone something gross.

"Sometimes humans regularly bleed for no reason."

"I know that," the dragon snorts, rolling it's eyes. "I spent a solid month as a human, remember?" She goes sort of crosseyed for a second, contemplative. Is it just her, or is the room rocking a bit...? "Although I guess that does raise the question of why you'd have any experience with that--"

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the terrible horrible no good very bad week

wismuth; the 16th

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

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