lostcarnival | just gotta ignite the light and let it shine

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just gotta ignite the light and let it shine

Who: Everyone who's stupid enough to show up for this, because legal drinking ages are for people from a different century/planet.
When: Afternoon/Evening, Day 30
Where: Lakeshore
What: Local Carnival workers get wasted and set off fireworks by the lake.
Warnings: Carnival shenanigans, ie. booze, drugs, and people getting set on fire probably. Put any tag-specific warnings in your headers!

So, Wismuth happened.

Lambert's pretty willing to bet a good chunk of the Carnival is pretty happy to act like Wismuth didn't happen, but he also doesn't really care about what sorrows people are drowning or not tonight: he knows he needed this drink, and after he'd slept off the immediate exhaustion that came with running around Wismuth for nearly two weeks with the power of Creation more or less constantly burning through him, he's ready to something, anything to feel like himself again.

Fast-forward to the lakeshore. There's a huge bonfire going, a box of assorted fireworks that's been 'liberated' from wherever the hell engineering keeps their supplies, and probably a crate of wine that's going to disappear sooner rather than later. Anything else, someone's going to have to bring themselves.

[ ooc: This is a mingle log! Bring your own entertainment, food, questionable substances etc. ]

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Some sort of celebration for some people, maybe ... Lambert mostly just wanted to get drunk and set things on fire. Not much of a deeper reason than that.

"That's the spirit." He tops the shotglass off with glowing, iridescent liquid and hands it over to Syrlya, smirking. If he hasn't had the stuff before now ... well, Lambert's not going to warn it of its potency. He'll just see how he reacts.

Lambert's thinking isn't far off from a lot of Vigil soldiers, which is probably what makes Syrlya more willing to play along. Not being terribly refined in the alcohol department, he does no sniffing to testing before he just takes the shot of fae ale like he would water. He;s definitely unaware of the potency.

Syrlya pauses, swallowing and them clearing his throat from the burn of alcohol. "It's--not bad. I wasn't sure what it would be like, with that color..."

It's pretty good alcohol. Definitely the strong stuff -- and Lambert, taking the shot glass back, has no hesitation pouring himself his own shot and chugging it down with a satisfied sigh.

"It works, and that's about all I care about," he says, shrugging. "Do Sylvari have fancy magic booze, too?"

"It's not magic, but we do ferment nectar to make it alcoholic." Something definitely sweeter, thicker than the booze the other races produce. It's popular enough, though, and possibly a little too easy to get down. Probably the same issue one can have with faerie ale.

He holds the shot glass out for another pour. "It doesn't keep as well, however. Usually other soldiers would bring beer or fire whiskey to the field."

Strange is gatecrashing the 'get his trailermate drunk' party a little late. Because he saw that Lambert was shoving the faerie ale on Syrlya and decided that the best thing to do is get something a bit less potent that would go down fairly easily.

So, he's walking over to the two with a half full bottle of the sunlight ambrosia and a glass for Syrlya. "Try this one," Strange starts, as he offers the bottle to Syrlya. "I guarantee you, it'll go down much smoother than anything Lambert forces on you."

Which is entirely the point. The drink goes down smoothly but hits hard later. And really, if they're going to get Syrlya a bit drunk, might as well get him drunk on the thing that isn't alcoholic paint thinner.

Fermented nectar... sounds too sweet for Lambert's taste. Though he does snort when Strange cuts in.

"He was asking for more," he'll point out, but he'll leave the choice to Syrlya, though not without ribbing Strange in the process. "I'm surprised you still have any of that left. Did you clean out the Caravan's supply?"

Because let's be honest: nobody is going to gift Jonathan Strange alcohol.

Syrlya leans back a little as Strange approaches, mostly for being surrounded now with multiple choices of alcohol. He admittedly hadn't been thinking much about taste when asking for another, but with options he looks between the two bottles before holding the glass out to Strange.

"How much of it has he been drinking it when I'm not around?" Or, really, how much has Strange had while not at their trailer because he put a dent in that, Syrlya would not be happy.

Only Peridot's trailer got dented, thank you very much. And that technically wasn't his fault!

Strange seems immune to the other two giving him shit as he pours Syrlya a generous helping of the drink. "This is my last bottle," he admits. "And don't worry, the warm feeling you'll get from the drink is intentional. As for your question, considering that some of us spent all of Wismuth with no responsibility, I drank a healthy amount."

Mostly while sulking. Still counts.

All the more reason to keep the rest of his faerie ale stash to himself, Lambert figures. Though at Strange's complete lack of shame regarding his being a total lush, he can only laugh.

"You mean no responsibility that you wanted," he points out. "Did you and Peridot start drinking together because you were both pissed about not being Guardians?"

Syrlya, honestly, finds himself still a little relieved he wasn't The Chosen One a second time around. It's not something he dwells on for very long, though, absently listening to their conversation as he swallows the shot of ambrosia--and then perks up, both pleased and surprised at the pleasant feeling that follows it. Surprising nobody, the plant person gets along very well with 'warm and sunny'.

He gaze drifts down to the bottle. "Were you planning on finishing it all today...?"

"You can finish off the bottle if you want," Strange idly responds to Syrlya, as he offers him the bottle. Look at him being a good friend! Just ignore the fact that Strange is keeping quiet on the potency.

Anyway, it's time to give Lambert shit. "I meant no responsibility period! I go to shambles when left to my own devices. I thought you knew that already."

Part of the reason why Arabella wanted him to get a goddamn job before they married. No comment about the sad drunk pity party he had with Peridot.

Lambert, at least, is also keeping quiet on the potency. Faerie ale may not go down as smooth as ambrosia, but at least it’s honest about its potency ... but hey, he’s curious about what Syrlya’s like drunk, too.

“You were supposed to be listening to Syrlya. Didn’t he give you enough to do?”

Cue wide, shitty grin as he looks at Strange, because don’t think he missed that no comment, buddy. He’ll get that story out of one of you one way or another.

Syrlya raises a brow, although instead of taking the bottle he just tries to tilt it to refill the glass while Strange grips it. "I had him do some scrying... how much of this is left?"

He would believe that Strange probably already sucked most of the bottle dry, but he's standing a little straight for that.

"About half," Strange answers, as he looks over at Syrlya. So no, he didn't drink it entirely dry, but Strange and some people he shared it with got the alcohol down a little. Enough for Syrlya to get fairly tipsy should he drink the whole thing.

"And scrying is easy. I've been doing that magic since the peninsula. Hell, I could probably do it drunk!"

He is definitely going to try and do it drunk later. Drunk magic is probably not a good idea but this already looks to be an evening full of terrible ideas.

Thinking about Strange scrying drunk reminds Lambert of other conversations, making his smile just a bit wider for reasons that have nothing to do with what they're talking about right now.

"You can scry for where people are except when we actually need to find them," Lambert tells him, but it's more amused than scolding. "Maybe you need to learn to scry better."

Except he'll never be able to, because plot is stronger than English magic. So it goes.

Syrlya takes the second shot a little more slowly, but still fast enough it's clear he doesn't anticipate the potency. He smirks, mostly to himself as Lambert needles Strange's competency. "I suppose it did tell us who was missing. Everyone he couldn't find, they were gone."

There, he can throw Strange a bone after he made him search for fifty something people in a day. " But if it is easy, I suppose I should have found more for you to do."

Thank you Syrlya, you're a bro. Strange gives Syrlya a little nod of thanks before going right back to whining and complaining.

"I still don't know where they were at first, but I could find them in the end. They just stuck around that damn penthouse half the time." The damn penthouse just blazing with void energy. The damn penthouse that nobody could really get into without shit coming down on them and coming down hard.

"Besides, since nobody else in the carnival can scry, I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

Lambert shakes his head, mock-aghast.

"Come on, Strange, we keep you around for more than just being a glorified scent hound." He pauses ... and keeps pausing, crossing his arms and pretending to be lost in thought.

"... Though those reasons are a little hard to remember right now."

"Is there a reason no one else can be taught to scry?" Syrlya smirks a little with amusement. "I don't believe you ever did show me how that works."

Sure, Syrlya just had him do a bunch of that, but he didn't stick around to watch it. There was too much else to organize on such short notice.

"Oh, I can certainly teach other people to scry," Strange responds, with a little shrug. If he can teach Yuya how to make a barrier spell, of course he can teach other people how to scry.

"In fact, I can teach the two of you right now if you wish. I'll just need a bowl and a clear liquid—preferably water, but spirits will do in a pinch."

You want magical theory, guess what Syr, you're getting so much magical theory.

"Why would you waste alcohol when we've got a whole lake?" Lambert points out, gesturing at said lake. Which brings up the question: does it need to be a bowl? Could Strange conceivably fill the whole lake with his scrying? Holy shit, that's a gamechanger.

Syrlya is having much the same idea Lambert is--maybe it's just the alcohol that makes that seem like a good idea.

"Could you just... scry directly into the lake?" He waves the empty shot glass vaguely. "The whole lake?"

Think of the map coverage they could get! There's the obvious problem of 'Strange can't scry between realms', but if Syrlya's been told that he doesn't remember it right now.

There is an entire lake here. He could scry in the lake. Of course, the magic would probably be harder than expected, but he never really took into account the size differences with regards to scrying. The spell wasn't designed that way after all. Strange pauses for a moment as he goes through some nerdy theory thoughts before deciding fuck it.

He takes a drink straight from the bottle of sunlight ambrosia, pushes the bottle for Lambert to take, and announces, "I'm going to scry directly into the lake."

The only way to figure out your limits is to test them and so fuck it, lake scrying. Strange starts to walk closer to the lakeshore, assuming that Syrlya and Lambert are going to follow him.

Hell yeah Lambert's following Strange, because he's sure this is about to be incredibly stupid (or incredibly entertaining, or both, in which case he'd consider it a win). The witcher flashes Syrlya a grin as he falls back into step beside him ... then nods innocently at his empty shotglass.

"Looks like you've run out."

Syrlya follows up behind, to the side of Lambert with absolute intrigue on his face. He has no idea what 'scry into the lake' is going to look like, since he's never actually witnessed it. But Strange's magic never fails to impress.

He glances aside, then down at his glass at Lambert's prompting. "Oh--yes, I suppose. Are you offering more?"

[bangs fists on table] get the plant drunk get the plant drunk

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thanks dreamwidth for the amazing thing where you don't let me track my own threads

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