lostcarnival | [OPEN]

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Who: Howard Link and you!
When: Days 42-45
Where: Various locations around the carnival
What: A newbie gets his feet wet
Warnings: None for now. Will update as needed o7

[ Day 42 - Newbie ]
One moment you're thinking things can't possibly get worse, and the next you're somehow surprised when they do.

It was his hurry to escape one situation that first brought him to this strange place, but now an entirely new development means to keep him here. What is 'here'? According to the Ringmaster, 'here' would be an interdimensional carnival traveling through the multiverse. Naturally there is no going back the way one came. The moment he was given his contract and trailer keys, he rushed off to check. The door he'd entered through is gone, and any others serve a practical use.

Had Link not pinched himself, he wouldn't have believed it. The shock of pain had assured he was indeed awake and in control of his own actions, but the presence of so many… oddities... now gives him reason to believe this could be some elaborate hallucination. Perhaps the Atuuda had drained him more than he'd thought. Whatever the case, his feet still work and he can't risk standing idle. Hallucination or not, Walker might very well be here, possibly drawn to the bright lights, sounds and scents of circus life, and it's in their best interests to find a way out together. Any moral dilemmas stemming from their last encounter (does it even count as theirs?) will simply need to wait.

But now he finds himself saddled with a new predicament. For reasons he can only fathom, he can no longer sense Walker's life force. In any other circumstances this might mean Walker is not here, but Link finds he cannot sense any. Regardless of how human his target appears, his attempts to read auras leave him with nothing but a throbbing temple and a twinge of pain in his chest. With time working against him, he resorts to the reliable method of skulking through shadows, stalking the unaware and sleuthing through carnival fliers.

Day or night, during your job or your spare time, you might feel as though you're being watched on the carnival grounds. It could be anywhere. Maybe you're watering your flower pots at your trailer or you're tending to a patient in the medical tent. He might even find himself spotted, and it never occurs to him to look into a mirror to discover ~~the bright, glowing dots on his forehead~~ why.

[ The Big Top - Day 43 and onwards, mostly around showtimes whenever those are… ]
When turning over stone after stone yields nothing, it may be more feasible to let your prey (should it even exist in this place) come to you. The bait might not be perfect but the ebb and flow of crowds provides excellent cover. Group after group make their way into the Big Top, taking in show after show. Link is usually among them, always in the very back where he has a good view of the rows ahead. The tent tends to be packed with performers, guests and athletes -- some of them several times his height, some of them several times his length -- and he often moves about to keep his sights clear.

The performances themselves are merely a distraction and you may find him sitting or standing next to you, looking way too stern and serious for somebody watching an amazing space show. He doesn't even clap for the acts or have popcorn.

[ The Cookhouse - Day 45 and onwards, any time ]
Well, this is it. This is where he's to labor away for the next year and a day.

The cookhouse is surreal but its atmosphere is as pleasant as it can be in these conditions. What conditions, you ask? When Link had first been thrust into this world and all of the antics accompanying the Space Olympics, he'd wondered that himself. An answer has yet to come to him.

Fortunately, enough people come and go to keep his hands busy, and if nothing else it's work he's familiar with. He supposes he ought to be grateful. Someone had enough consideration to assign him a job with an oven. And yet, despite the subtle familiarity of the kitchen, Link has never felt more out of place.

Lost, he manages the only way he knows how: by making himself useful. He can be found poking around in the kitchen, clearing tables and tidying the dining areas. Depending on the time of day, he may have already been working hard for a while and will have his sleeves pulled back to his forearms. May he take your empty plate? Should he? Maybe he'll just sweep again…

[ Wildcard! ]
Feel free to run into Link just about anywhere on carnival grounds. During the days leading up to off week, his snooping can take him pretty far but he'll be avoiding the Olympic fanfare whenever possible. If you'd like to work out something in particular, just hmu on Discord (Bans#5363) or PM this journal. I'm new here so don't hesitate to let me know if I get something wrong o7 I'll match prose or brackets.

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It's not that Strange was stealing food, per se. After all, the food belonged to the carnival, Strange worked for the carnival, ergo Strange could eat the food whenever he wanted. It's just that Strange kept odd hours and didn't want to have certain people fussing at him about the fact that he should have showed up for lunch or why can't you wait for dinner, and so on and so forth. Which of course, the answer was that he's hungry now, of course he isn't going to wait for dinner.

And, because he's a big show-offy magician, he's not going to do something as pedestrian as 'knock' or 'use a door' either. Nope, Strange is going to enter the kitchen via smoke form. One of the kitchen windows is cracked open slightly. It's cracked open enough that a plume of dark purple smoke can seep through the crack. The smoke trails down towards the floor and lingers for a moment before it solidifies into the fully clothed and annoyingly smug Jonathan Strange.

Thankfully, he still looks humanoid. The main odd thing about Strange is the fact that his eyes are completely mirrored over. Add in the fact that his hair and wrists have flecks of a mirrored covering, and this mostly means that Strange can be a bit blinding if the sun hits him a certain way. His attire is rumpled and intensely dated: you can take the man out of the 1810s, but you can't take the 1810s out of the man. As he finally solidifies, Strange looks over at Link, as if noticing him for the first time.

"Huh!" he simply states, smug expression shifting to a frown. "You're not supposed to be in here." Says the person who's definitely not supposed to be in here.

Terrible things happen when you interrupt someone in the middle of inventory. Carrots might spill, potatoes might roll away, flour might go flying…

Luckily none of that happens, though Link does tip over an aged teacup in his hurry to guard his back. He whirls, his braid flying out behind him, and his hand darts to the small boxes strapped to his thigh. Drawing himself up, he sweeps his eyes from side to side and... promptly finds himself facing a well-timed reflection of the overhead light. Stunned, he screws his eyes shut. A beat later he's blinking furiously to chase away the spots behind his eyelids.

Well… Considering he wasn't immediately assaulted, he can only assume this fellow must be another worker and not an enemy from home out to shank him. His vision clears quickly enough, and Link risks another look while puckering his lips into a disgruntled frown. Really, this man's wrinkled outfit is the least offensive thing about him...

"Excuse you!" he chides, curt and direct. "I most certainly am! You, on the other hand, ought to wait in the dining area like everyone else!"

… Unless this man is his boss? Would that mean he belongs here after all? What a way to make an impression…

"Magicians, like cats, may go where they please." An explanation that is entirely bullshit and entirely Strange making something up on the spot to justify why he's in the kitchen. He looks annoyingly proud of himself for that explanation as well.

Strange gives Link another once over before deciding that this man's presence isn't going to stop him from getting some food. He saunters over towards one of the cabinets like he owns the damn place. Opening it up, he rummages through for a moment before pulling down a breadbox. The next stage of rummaging is Strange trying to find a knife to cut the bread within the breadbox.

Strange talks as he makes himself at home within the kitchen. After all, he can briefly chide this person for being back here while he gets a snack. It's multitasking! "Besides, this area is for carnival employees only. And considering I haven't seen you around here before, I doubt you're an employee."

Unless he's someone new, the voice of reason that Strange rarely pays attention to points out. That's always possible.

Yes, that certainly sounds like bullshit. Link slants his eyes away at the word cat, his shoulders bunching slightly, but a second later he's back to pinning this stranger with a guarded stare. For several short moments he does nothing but follow the other man around the kitchen with his eyes, taking care to squint when the light catches just right. Though Link had already explored some cupboards and drawers on his own, there's still plenty of information to glean from this man's search. So that's where the bread is hidden. Link can think of several things to eat with that bread, but his kitchen companion appears to have a plan so Link directs the conversation elsewhere.

Deliberately terse, he goes on, "Are you an authority on the comings and goings of carnival personnel? If so, it would seem there has been a miscommunication. I arrived some days ago. This would make me an employee, would it not?"

Strange's plan is literally 1: find bread. 2: cut off some bread. 3: put bread in mouth. Now that he's accomplished step 1, he's working on step 2. And thankfully, his rummaging finds him a knife. It's more steak knife than bread knife, but the likelihood that Strange would know what a bread knife is to begin with is slim to none. This can cut some bread, ergo he will use it to cut the bread. So, Strange starts sawing off a chunk of the bread, about two or so inches thick.

"That depends! If you've dealt with the Ringmaster already then that makes you an employee. Otherwise you're someone simply overstaying his welcome."

Despite the fact that he's deliberately being a shit, Strange has a pretty good feeling this guy's an employee. After all, he looks human in a way that most of the people in the space olympics weren't. Still, there's a bit of an ironic smile on his face as he continues to tease Link. "If you are an employee, I hope you were smart enough to make a contract."

Goodness, what an attitude. He's all too glad this man claims to be a magician and not the kitchen director. Link pins him with a snooty, sideways glare and, thankfully, is only mildly unsettled by a glimpse of his own reflection. However, despite Strange's poor personality, there is certainly something else to be gained here. It sounds as though his eyes (if they even see as Link's do…) and ears have been around for some time. If he's familiar with the comings and goings of other employees, then... perhaps...

"Hmph. Rest assured, I would not be here were I not forced to accept the Ringmaster's conditions. Were I able, I would gladly leave. Seeing how I cannot..."

Link's eyes dart away to the pantry. There's some leftover space veggies and space meat that might make a decent sandwich, provided Strange wants more than plain bread. Link has even found some tea satchels that smell pleasant enough, though he'd been rudely interrupted before they could pass a proper test.

"... My duties are in the kitchen now. I'm not yet certain what the extent of those duties are, but I expect I'm to assist with your meal."

"Well, you don't have to help me now," Strange points out, as if it's obvious. Did this person expect to help out with him stealing a snack? Good Lord, Strange hoped not. "After all, I didn't expect anyone here in the first place."

That much is apparent just from the first part of their conversation. The bread goes back in the cupboard, the knife goes in the sink, the chunk of bread Strange sliced off, gets set on a napkin. He had been planning to rummage around further, possibly grab a few eggs, but honestly? The fact that Link's here, in the kitchen, and probably won't leave him alone is putting Strange off of getting any more food. Lord knows he'll probably be judged about his choices or yelled at some more or questioned why he isn't waiting until dinner. Bread will suffice for now.

Still, the fact that this man is new is interesting. Granted, he'd be more interesting if he chose to stay on, but new people always interest Strange somewhat. His curiosity spikes and Strange decides to linger in the kitchen for juuuust a bit longer. "And since it seems you are new, welcome to the carnival. My name is Jonathan Strange, and I serve as magician and mercenary."

Just said in a matter of fact tone as he offers a hand for Link to shake.

Sound choice, Strange. Ask anyone from home what Link does best and one half of the group will say bake, and the other will say nag. Sometimes these two things happen at once, as you're learning now. His irritation isn't at all soothed by the end coming to their meeting, but proper manners assure he at least returns any courtesies. Naturally he wouldn't had he known Strange isn't allowed to be here, but those are problems for another Link in another timeline.

When Strange thrusts his hand out toward him, he eyes it for one too many seconds. Though mercenary sounds like a respectable job, anyone claiming to specialize in magic tricks sounds like trouble. Link's gaze flicks between Strange's face (again with those bizarre eyes) and offered hand, as though awaiting some childish prank.

Slowly, cautiously, he reaches for that hand. He clasps it soundly, with enough pressure to gauge what the other man has in mind.

"Howard Link, line cook," he returns evenly. "I fail to see how your occupations are related. Perhaps you can explain what, exactly, it is a mercenary does."

No pranks here, just an attempt at courtesy and proper decorum. For a man who looks like he can't throw a punch to save his life, Strange has a surprisingly solid handshake. He shakes Link's hand before letting go. One hand goes to the bread and the other hand starts to tear a handful from the bread while he answers Link's question.

Thankfully, Strange isn't rude enough to speak with his mouth full. But there's nothing stopping him from answering the question and then getting a snack.

"As we are a carnival, we travel. It's the job of the mercenaries and scouts to take care of any dangers that the carnival might face during our travels. Truth be told, they aren't really related, except for the fact that I use my magic both in my performance for the carnival and in protecting it from dangers."

And now that he's explained his piece, Strange pops that chunk of bread into his mouth to chew and swallow before Link inevitably asks another question.

Well, aren't you being helpful? Despite exuding haughtiness (and seeming utterly inconvenienced by Link's mere existence) Strange is a clever fellow. If nothing else, he's willing to waste time filling in the blanks for a hapless newbie. The real question is whether Link can endure Strange and his whimsies long enough to get answers.

"I see," he muses, more to himself than his companion. "So, you aren't a typical magician. One can't use card tricks and disappearing rabbits for protection, unless they mean to distract the enemy."

He pauses for a quick beat. This time he doesn't bother to hide the way his eyes roam Strange's transformations. Mutations? He isn't sure what to call them, but it finally dawns on him that there is far more to this man than Link could have ever fathomed. A magician. Of course. There is only one door, and Strange had not entered through it.

He sobers, his expression going from irked to strained.

"... Just what are you truly capable of?"

Strange comes from a world of magic. Magicians, faeries, all sorts of fantastic stories where magic is real and can change the world, not the stuff of pulling rabbits out of hats or sawing a man in half. As such, it's only when Link mentions card tricks and disappearing rabbits that Strange realizes oh, he was thinking of that sort of magician. Street magicians doing slight of hand tricks for coin, not someone who could perform actual magic as he could.

This is going to make the conversation much more interesting. A wide, smug grin stretches across Strange's face at Link's question. What is he capable of? Plenty! Probably more than this man could think of if his points of reference were card tricks. And, given the chance, Captain Arrogance over here will gladly show Link just what he's capable of.

"It would be best if I showed what I was capable of in someplace that isn't the kitchen." Might not want to get things broken, after all. "Can you shirk your duties for fifteen minutes or so?"

Link counters Strange's grin with a tight-lipped frown. Suspicion buzzes at the back of his mind, warning against going off into the unknown with some strange (no pun intended) man. There might be rules in place to discourage fighting among coworkers, but there is nothing to protect Link from any unfortunate 'accidents'. And yet, that is precisely why it would be best to learn what Strange has up his figurative sleeve. Link will simply need to be quick with his defenses.

After some careful consideration, he reaches behind himself to undo his apron.

"Perhaps," he begins, his eyes on Strange, "provided you can guarantee this will only require fifteen minutes." With deft fingers, he folds the apron into a neat square and goes on, "After all, I'm due for a break."

Besides, the kitchen has managed this long without him. He slides the folded apron onto the nearest counter and then he waits, expectantly, for Strange to lead the way.

Wonderful. That smug grin shifts into something slightly manic but mostly appreciative at Link's words. For someone who breathes and lives magic as much as Strange does, the potential of showing off is like catnip. Of course he's going to take this opportunity! Of course he's going to show off!

"Part of my magic involves traveling between reflections," Strange explains, as he starts to walk out of the kitchen towards a side room. There's a restroom off of the main dining area (which is where he's heading in the first place) and those have bathroom mirrors inside. Strange may be flighty, irresponsible, and prone to not explaining things but even he knows that it would probably be best to explain what the hell he's doing before yanking a relative stranger into a bathroom. "It will take us seconds to go somewhere less fragile and back."

And also somewhere less inside. Most of Strange's magic is elemental and it's a little bit hard to throw around fire or manipulate the earth if you're stuck in a kitchen.

Strange is bringing him to… the toilets? Perhaps this isn't such a fine idea after all. Nevertheless, it's too late to go back now. He idles somewhere a respectable distance away, still close enough to be considered following but far enough to flee if things get suspicious. While watching Strange from behind, a little crease forms between his eyebrows.

"You travel through mirrors?" he repeats, not at all bothering to hide his skepticism.

But again his attention is drawn to all of those flashy, reflective spots on Strange's person and, suddenly, something clicks. Magicians. Illusions. Smoke and mirrors. Is this really only about magic, or is there some truth being distorted here? How far can one trust a man whose very job is to trick and deceive?

With that tucked away at the back of his mind, he adds, "What if I prefer to walk?"

"Mirrors and other sorts of reflections!" Strange pipes up, grin in his voice, as he continues to walk towards the restrooms, assuming that Link's following him. Because why wouldn't he be? He's going to do magic, in Strange's mind there's nothing better or more interesting than that! And so, Link's question takes Strange a little bit by surprise. He stops walking and turns around to give the other man a quizzical look.

"Then I've no idea if you'll make it here and back in fifteen minutes or so," Strange remarks, as if it's a silly question. Come on dude, that's pretty obvious, if Link prefers to walk then...he's going to walk, what a surprise. "I'm going to go to the lake. You can either walk there yourself or travel through the mirrors with me."

He's at the door to the restroom now, but Strange lingers for a moment, watching Link. The mirrors are just behind that door, but considering how the man's suddenly become apprehensive, Strange can't help but pause for a moment. "You'll need to take my hand for us to travel together."

And he offers his hand for Link to take.

The lake? Link had stumbled upon it on his first day here but has had no reason to return. If he leaves now he might make it there in fifteen minutes or so, but there's no way he'll be back at the kitchen in a timely manner. His mouth puckers in another of those displeased frowns.

For several quick beats, Link scrutinizes the offered hand. His gaze then darts up to search Strange's eyes, as though it's possible for him to see more than a reflection of his own suspicious stare. Going along poses a huge risk but… Really, is this method of travel any different than going through doors via the Ark? The same issues had been present then. The only difference is he had trusted the person showing him the way.

Before he can dwell on that sentiment for too long, he exhales loudly (wearily) and claps his hand into Strange's grasp.

"Very well, then. Let's be quick. I've you timed."

Strange gives Link a wild grin, the sort of grin that someone gives their friend when they've just convinced them to do something that might be a dumb idea. He practically pulls Link through the door as the two head through the door, to the restroom. Once in there, Strange focuses his attention entirely on the mirror. He reaches out with his free hand to touch the surface, and murmurs a few words under his breath.

The magic is almost instantaneous. The two vanish through the mirror, as if being sucked into it, before reappearing in a puddle at the lake's edge. This means that both Link and Strange get their shoes wet, but that doesn't seem to bother Strange in the slightest. It's only when both men are standing in the puddle, near the lake, that Strange lets go of Link's hand and starts walking towards the water's edge.

"It's an application of a spell I performed in England," Strange yammers, as if Link gives a shit about things like magical theory. "The magic that I'm going to cast soon, however, is of my own devising."

It begins and ends before Link can finish his gasp. He no sooner tightens his hand than finds it's no longer necessary to hold onto Strange at all. They've already arrived, and he's left with that subtle, topsy-turvy sensation that accompanies instantaneous travel and abruptly finding oneself in a completely different spot. All at once he smells wet earth and nature instead of food and spices. Suddenly he hears birds and lapping water in place of kitchen ambiance. The change is jarring but, fortunately, it isn't unlike the trips he's taken between gates with Walker. Link recovers quickly enough, which is a small mercy considering Strange seems more interested in starting his show than making sure his traveling companion is all right.

Once his head settles, Link gives the area (and himself) a quick survey. Nothing seems amiss, though he wonders how one passes through water without getting soaked. He shifts his feet and the puddle sloshes against his boots, proving the ground is indeed solid and the water is indeed wet. He makes a mental note to ask about it later. While he's at it, he ought to ask which part of England Strange hails from as well...

Link remains where he'd been left standing, his eyes now on Strange as he approaches the shoreline. He schools his expression into something neutral, but a touch of curiosity makes its way into his tone.

"You create magic? How? In the same manner one combines ingredients to create potions, only with elements and desired outcomes?"

Strange straight up has forgotten to do things like 'check on Link' or 'see how he's doing during his first trip through the mirrors'. Part of it is because he's so used to everybody else knowing what he's doing that he's fallen into terrible habits, part of it is because he wants to do some really cool magic elsewhere.

"With elements, with relationships, with study, with different applications of spells...there are so many ways to do magic and so many different types of magic. My magic is relational and tends towards reflections," said with a vague gesture towards the puddle, "and the forces of nature herself."

Which he is about to do. Strange closes his eyes, muttering something under his breath, before he gestures theatrically towards the lake with both hands. He's intensely concentrating on the lake and his magic, to the point where Link might as well not be there. Still murmuring, Strange moves his hands apart slightly. The water follows. As he moves his hands, the water parts, pushing back from the area where Strange is gesturing to make a waterless path of the lake bed. The path goes about six feet in. The water is parted for about ten or so seconds before Strange brings his hands back together and the lake returns to it's previous state.

And man, does he look proud of himself. A bit tired, but definitely smug.

Though it's briefer than expected, the spell is no less intriguing. Link is left gazing out across the lake for several seconds more, observing the slosh of crashing waves and then finally the peaceful stillness of the water's surface. He's reminded of a certain Biblical passage, though he's certain it's a coincidence and not meant to resemble an act of God. Nevertheless...

The incantation, the gestures, the concentration required -- it isn't unlike the magic they have back home. All that's missing is the instrument to focus the spell, and Strange's dramatic parting of the sea will be no different than what Link himself is capable of. How unsettling is that? So much power lies in the hands of some sassy chap who grins like an absolute madman at the mere mention of magic.

After a moment, Link steps forward and his boots squelch on the damp grass. He comes to a stop at Strange's side, looks ahead for a beat longer and then turns his face toward him. Expression neutral, he sweeps Strange from head to toe with his eyes. The other man appears winded but he's clearly done this enough to not warrant concern. Besides, it isn't Link's job to fuss about him.

"You're able to control magic without a medium? Impressive. Is it finished?" A beat. "The spell, I mean. I doubt your goal is to simply move the water, unless it's part of an act. There must be something more."

"I can do something more if you want," Strange responds, as if it's perfectly easy, not a problem. Honestly, he was just hoping that the bigass display of parting the waters would be impressive enough, but if Link wants more, Strange can do that.

He gestures towards the water again, muttering something under his breath. Some water rises up from the lake and shapes itself into the shape of a five foot long gray seal. The seal swims through the air, twisting and turning, moving in circles. Strange is staring at it all the while, concentrating to hold the shape, but he continues talking.

"Most of what I do in my act involve fire or earth. They're quicker to work with and I don't have to bring an entire tank of water with me to properly show off." And there's less to clean up afterwards. Just make the floor back to normal, there we go. "Though, what do you mean by doing magic without a medium?"

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[OPEN]

day 45!

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