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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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?"

Once they reach the lake, Strange stands at the shoreline. He cracks his knuckles, looks down at the lake, raises his arms...then realizes ah wait, he doesn't have a target yet.

"I'll need someone to scry for," he says, while lowering his arms. "Definitely someone within the carnival, preferably someone who isn't at the party. Any suggestions?"

Because considering the turn-out, 'not at the party' might be harder than expected.

"I am," Lambert grins. Consider yourself enabled with another shot of faerie ale, Syrlya!

As for Strange's question ... Lambert purses his lips, thinking. Then the conversation with Lavellan comes to mind, and he scowls.

"Can you scry for spirits?" he asks. Might seem like a weird question, but Cole's a weird guy. A weird annoying guy.

Syrlya looks down at the shot before putting it back, as slowly as the first time. Next time, he'll need to specify that he wants the better tasting alcohol.

"You mean Cole?" Cole is, at least, the only spirit he knows of around the carnival. Unless that's what all the Cindersprites are, he doesn't know, he hasn't asked about them.

Anyway, Syrlya has no one he particularly feels like snooping on, so Cole's as good an option as any.

"He's that odd kid, isn't he?" Which granted, is a bit mean, but let's be real, Cole is a bit of an odd kid. "I don't think he likes me."

Which is a convenient explanation as to why Cole and Strange never talk! Still, he can certainly scry for him. Strange places his hands out in front of the lake and makes some repetitive circling motions, which he then divides into multiple parts. The magic flares to life and...turns the lake green. At least, it turns most of the visible part of the lake green, though there are other colors further inwards.

"Well something happened," Strange explains. He's holding his hands out in front of him to keep the spell stable. Anybody who walks around to explore the lake or get an aerial view will see that the spell did work, it's just that the scrying took up the entire lake. As for where Cole is, surprise, he's at the party! He's just hanging out closer to the trailer area, watching everybody from afar, sitting in the very green grass.

"Yeah, him." He says that with a grimace ... because man, Lambert does not like Cole, and he's entirely gratified to find that apparently Cole and Strange don't hang out with each other, either.

But then the spell is taking effect, and he leans in curiously ... well. 'Something' is one word for it.

"What the fuck?" he starts laughing, because it's ridiculous. "What is that supposed to be?"

Syrlya stares at the lake for a long, silent moment. And then he leans forward, squinting, like he's trying to make heads or tails of it.

"It's green." Obviously. He lifts his gaze, trying to see if the green changes at all if he looks further out the shore. "Maybe a lake is too big? Too complicated? How should it normally look?"

Besides not that.

"It's supposed to be the spell!" Strange grumbles, looking down at the green. He knows it worked! The magic itself didn't feel any different, so why the hell is everything green instead of showing where Cole is? Strange frowns, looking down at the lake one more time.

Syrlya does have a point, though. This is bigger than his normal surfaces. "One of you go further down the lakeshore. I want to see how far the green goes."

Lambert waves Syrlya lazily towards the direction Strange indicates.

“You go. Nightrider orders,” he grins. “I’ll head up the other way.”

Syrlya rolls his eyes, but obliges and starts to jog further down the shore. To his credit, manages to at least not trip even when he sways a little. His attention is held on the water in the lake, trying to decipher the pattern in it.

He slows to a walk, then stops where he reaches a point where some of the grass in the image is a little clearer outside the shadow. And then he leans over, staring at the image more critically. He doesn't reach the end of the green... but he thinks he's figured out what the green is.

That stunned silence holds for a minute, before he covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

Strange stays where he is, examining the spell, and looking over the framework with a frown. Was it the size? Perhaps he could account for the size of the spell if he added in a bit of Omskirk or a smidge of the theory of recognizing limitations and oh wait, Syrlya's laughing at him?

Strange frowns, looking over at his trailermate. "Well go on, what's so funny?" he yells.

Lambert's wandered off in the other direction, though his ears mean he can hear the other two perfectly fine. The reverse isn't necessarily true, though, which means he's bawling back.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Sorry everyone at the party, it's idiots yelling at each other along a lakeshore time.

Syrlya turns to Strange with a mild, crooked smile as he points out to the water. Not that it makes it any clearer, since they're still standing at an odd angle.

"Your scrying! Does it... does it change size depending what you are looking into?" Because he's pretty certain it has. "I believe Cole must be in the middle!"

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