just gotta ignite the light and let it shine

[whattaprick]

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. ]

Comments

[whattaprick]

Trust Strange to focus on the absolutely inconsequential, in Lambert’s opinion. He snorts, tail swatting Strange lightly on the thigh.

“And you’d never have thought of it if we didn’t tell you to try,” he points out. “So you don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

He glances at Syrlya, brows raised. “Magic is pretty common from where you’re from, isn’t it?”

[chronosynthesis]

"Pretty common," Syrlya repeats monotonously, glancing over to Lambert. "It is part of everyone's lives. Some more than others, but it is a crux of Tyria as a whole--and necessary for much of its existence."

And some of the people in it, like Syrlya. He's been slowly growing more aware of how much magic is around them... probably because it's begun to saturate him, too. "So, yes. As much as it is for the Ringmaster and her realm. Why?"

[kingsroads]

As Lambert's tail hits him again, Strange briefly takes a moment to curse the Ringmaster for not giving him any body parts he can whack Lambert with. The next time that tail comes near him, he's turning to smoke.

"Tell him about the bloodstone," the peanut gallery pipes up. This doesn't really answer Syrlya's question but, then again, Strange doesn't really know why Lambert's asking about magic to begin with. He can take a guess though, and that guess is nosiness.

[whattaprick]

Turning to smoke would require Strange having the reflexes to dodge in the first place, so that's going to avail him very little. In any case, Lambert eyes Strange suspiciously, but he'll address his concerns to Syrlya--

"But if it's going to take a long time, don't. I came here to drink, not hear about even more magic." He shrugs. "I'd rather hear you talk about yourself, for once."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya is about to go ahead and explain the bloodstone, but Lambert's quick deflection of that makes him pause. About himself? Actually, what of the reason he's hear has he told Lambert? He's been very forthcoming in hopes of someone having any sort of epiphany, but sometimes a mundane conversation gets sandwiched being so much chaos it's hard to keep track of.

"A lot of it will likely have to do with magic," he absently mumbles, twisting the glass between his fingers. "Well, I have already told you where my people came from... I don't believe I've told you about the Elder Dragons, yet."

Which is mostly related to him. It's where his thoughts often occupy, anyway.

[kingsroads]

And Strange remains quiet on this, nursing the drink that Lambert shoved on him. He can't really add much to this conversation. Syrlya's told him a bit about the Elder Dragons already, but Strange knows he doesn't know enough to speak with anything remotely close to authority.

So, he simply stands by and listens, taking a drink as he watches Syrlya and Lambert.

[whattaprick]

"You haven't," the witcher confirms. Dragons! Now that's more like it. It also sounds like its going to take a while, meaning instead of standing around like an idiot and listing slightly, Lambert's going to drop down to sit on the ground with the air of a child settling in for a story.

"What have these dragons got to do with you?" he asks, cocking his head as his ears swivel forward. "You didn't mention them having anything to do with Sylvari."

[chronosynthesis]

"I'm fighting them!" He gestures with the shot glass again, because apparently in too tipsy too quickly, it's become his tool of emphasis. "My people have little to do with the dragons now, besides a common agreement that we would rather they not ravage our world, but..."

He pauses, squinting out at the lake and retaining just enough awareness to catch himself from continuing on in response to Lambert's point and babbling a little too much. Although, if Tyria didn't completely turn on them, the carnival probably won't care (or understand) that much.

"Anyway, it helps to know what they are first. Great, primordial forces that consume and... I suppose regulate the magic in Tyria, but they are mindlessly hungry and destructive and wipe out all life every time they rise. Tyria is in the middle of their most recent cycle of awakening."

[kingsroads]

"That means you can't kill them, Lambert," Strange pipes up, as he practically flops down on the grass next to the other man. Because this is Lambert, his first instinct is always 'stab the problem'. "Murder the magic regulating dragon, well where does the magic go?"

Admittedly, Strange is operating on a conversation's worth of knowledge more than Lambert is: he and Syrlya talked about Syrlya's world back when they first became roommates. Still, Strange can't help it as a pointing out the obvious sort of tone creeps into his voice.

[whattaprick]

"You don't have to tell me that." Lambert rolls his eyes, his tone equally stating the obvious. Come on, Strange -- does this remotely sound like a problem Lambert would want to touch?

"I only kill monsters I get paid to kill." From the sound of it, there wouldn't ever be enough money to make him want to touch this. But getting paid to stab things aside, they're getting off track, so he waves for Syrlya to continue.

"They couldn't have wiped out all life the last time they did this. Otherwise, how do you know this happened before?"

[chronosynthesis]

"Well, I suppose they did not succeed in killing all life last time." He turns the shot glass in his hand, giving it a critical look. "They return to sleep once they have indulged in enough magic, but... almost every race that existed at that time is now extinct."

Sure, some of them survived long enough, but the damage was so severe it couldn't save their culture or their people. It might as well be the same thing. "We excavate what we can find about the last time the dragons rose, but much of it is buried. That is why we did not fully understand it until... recently."

He purses his lips into a tight frown before waving his hand. "Anyway! Protecting Tyria from the destruction of the dragons or volatile magical energy is my duty. Not only mine, but my Wyld Hunt was deeply connected to it."

Is, maybe? Ay least, he doesn't consider his work done until he can guarantee the future of their world.

[kingsroads]

Strange's jovial expression flips to a quizzical one. Wild Hunt...he knows that term. Strange can't think of where, it's probably from a book or one of Norrell's texts that he's read it, but he knows that term. And if it's from a book, it either involves magic or the fae. But if it's from Syrlya's world, how on Earth could he know it?

"What exactly is your Wyld Hunt? And why have I heard that phrase before?" Strange still has that frown on his face, as he looks over to Syrlya. This is something new, interesting, and odd and he certainly wants to find out more about it.

[whattaprick]

Lambert has a much more visceral reaction to that than Strange does, jerking in surprise, but the magician beats him to the question on his lips before he can get it out.

"You're part of the Wild Hunt?" he follows on anyway, once he's recovered his voice. "Since when?"

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya pauses as he looks at Strange. "Ah... maybe I told you about it?"

He can't remember when off the top of his head, but that arns like ther mostly likely explanation. After all, he only knows it as a part of the livelihood od the Sylvari. And in his tipsy haze, he misses Lambert's alarm.

"I felt my Wild Hunt just before I awoke. The Dream was guiding me to face one of the dragon's champions, although... we did not fully understand it at the time."

He presses his hand to his chest. "But I believe it won't be settled until the threat of every dragon is stopped."

[kingsroads]

Strange just looks even more confused. He knows about this, and Lambert knows about this, and Syrlya knows about this and yet it's somehow from Syrlya's world? Is he missing a step? He feels like he's missing a step somewhere and just looks so damn confused about it.

"But it doesn't involve dragons," he can only stammer, as he looks from Lambert to Syrlya with a confused expression. He could have sworn it involved the fae, not dragons or dreams!

[whattaprick]

"And you're not one of the Aen Elle," Lambert says, looking at Syrlya with a frown and his head cocked slightly to the side.

"Must be a different kind of Wild Hunt we're talking about," he says slowly. "Unless yours involved kidnapping people from other worlds on top of killing dragons."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya frowns slightly. That might be something the Nightmare Court would believe in, if they had any ambition beyond their borders. "Certainly not! Wyld Hunts are for the benefit of Tyria. We are more concerned with preserving life there than pursuing it anything anywhere else."

Because, really, they've got their hands full trying to prevent the impending apocalypse there. And failing. Syrlya considers it for a moment before waving his hand dismissively. "It must be a coincidence. I have not seen any evidence that my people exist anywhere but Tyria."

It just happens to be a coincidence shared most blatantly with the fair folk, but Syrlya hasn't actually picked up on that much.

[kingsroads]

Strange is still confused as Lambert and Syrlya give their explanations. Aen Elle? The Wild Hunt somehow involved Syr's people? How come their Wild Hunts are all so different?

"Mine involves the fae," Strange explains, with a frown. "Though it's just a hunt: nothing for the benefit of a world or kidnapping anyone. I've never actually seen one, but I've read about it in texts."

[whattaprick]

"Mine involves elves," Lambert waves a hand, carelessly. "Asshole elves. You must be talking about a different kind of wild hunt, then. You said you >felt it -- what, like indigestion?"

Cue expectant, slightly unfocused staring at Syrlya. Spit it out, buddy!

[chronosynthesis]

"Tyria has neither fae nor elves, so it must be." At least he knows what an elf is now. It's something he, right now, is willing to waive off as coincidence. The concepts seem to be so significantly different it's hard for him to take comparing them to heart.

To Lambert's question, he shakes his head. "No, like an urge. A--" He waves is hand vaguely. "A drumming constantly in the back of your head. No matter what you do, you can never forget what needs to be done. It's rare, and even more so for a Hunt to be... so tremendous a task as felling an Elder Dragon."

Or six.

[kingsroads]

"All of our Wild Hunts are vastly different and yet the mere name is a constant." Strange...has no idea what to think of this. He's frowning slightly, lost in thought and obviously focused on the differences between everything.

This can't be a coincidence. But what this means...he's got no clue.

"I wonder what else our worlds share that we aren't aware of."