if we just stay together it'll be alright

[whattaprick]

Who: Lambert & Peridot and dead weight
Where: The Carnival
When: After Elysium.
What: An inglorious homecoming.

All things considered, everything in Elysium went a lot better for Lambert than his last encounter with True Fae, but he doesn't feel much better for it. He knows that they've only deferred their biggest problems for now -- if nothing else, the experience was a painful highlight of exactly how persistent the Ringmaster's enemies are, and they've still got their lost workers to recover -- but he can, at least, take care of one.

After everything, their return is almost anticlimactic: turn one corner, and then another, and then the Carnival entrance is there, where it was lost to shadows before. When they step through to the Carnival, and nothing follows them, Lambert isn't going to bother hiding the way his shoulders sag in relief. Rather than heading to the medical tent, though, where the Doctor might or might not be ...

"Can you bring him to my trailer?" he asks, turning to the dragon beside him. He doesn't expect her to answer him with a full mouth, but he imagines if she's tired of playing pack horse already, she'll make it known. "If not, I'll carry him the rest of the way."

Comments

[periphrasing]

Peridot is equally relieved to be back. She'd followed after Lambert obediently enough, having no reason to protest a swift and immediate return to the safety of the carnival. It was just a matter of keeping the pace while also making sure that she didn't accidentally jostle Childermass too much.

Exhaustion is hitting her pretty hard by the time they return though, visible in both the way she's carrying herself and in her eyes, which are nowhere near as bright and sharp as usual. Wearily, she cocks her head at Lambert's request (Childermass's limbs kind of. Awkwardly flop. With the motion). She wants to ask 'why not the medical tent', but as observed, her mouth is full at the moment... and it seems kind of stupid to put Childermass down just to ask that, only to have to pick him back up again.

Lambert probably has a good reason for making that call, anyway. So she affirms with a grunt, and turns to start trotting in the direction of the supervisor's grove. She gets him as far as Lambert's doorstep before stopping and waiting, figuring that trying to cram herself through the doorway while holding an injured human in her jaws is not the greatest idea.

[whattaprick]

With both of them knowing their destination (hopefully Peridot isn't bouncing Childermass too much, or Lambert will stop her and take him from her before then) they make quick enough time, and he'll carefully lift the magician in his arms once they get there.

"Can you get the door?" He nods. "Should be open. Don't exactly keep it locked."

He assumes she'll turn back, since being a dragon in a trailer doesn't seem like a good time.

[periphrasing]

She's done the dragon in a trailer bit before and it wasn't terrible, but. Now's hardly the time to be screwing around. She shifts back, rubbing her jaw with one hand as she does.

"That'll be the first easy think I've done all day," Peridot says dispiritedly. She runs up and props the door open, waiting for Lambert to head in first. She'll follow right after him.

[whattaprick]

"Lock the door behind you."

It's directly to his bedroom Lambert will go, not a pause in his stride even in the darkness of the trailer -- a benefit of being able to see as well as a cat. Peridot will have to take care of the lights herself, if she needs it, though Lambert will turn on the lamp by the side of the bed as soon as he's got Childermass laid out. He knows Peridot's distressed, but some things he needs to take care of first.

"Can you get me the bottle there and the red tin from the top drawer on the left side of the desk?" he says distractedly, over his shoulder, while he checks Childermass's vitals properly. Nothing seems all that untoward -- he's just unconscious, not the puppet with cut strings stillness of the vampires Shima had burned through at the Celebration.

The bottle is a disinfectant, the tin an ointment for burns, but explanations can wait. For now, his hands are going to Childermass's cravat to undo it, leaving it loose around his neck before his fingers work down to the fastenings of his vest. The cloth of his shirt isn't in much worse condition than Lambert's itself, it seems, even for all the flames had gone through him, but Lambert still needs to see the damage.

There's a quiet, tearing sound as he uses the feather blade to cut through cloth -- first through the front of Childermass's shirt, then down each sleeve. The room is immediately filled with a soft, blue glow from the light of the fae marks that wrap and curve around his neck in the shape of the scarring Peridot may yet remember from the ritual, though they'd been cut deep and bleeding profusely then. The burns on Childermass's chest are minor -- although if Peridot looks for long, instead of blood or fluid, there's something dark that seems to lightly evaporate under the harshness of the light.

[periphrasing]

It occurs to Peridot that she hasn't ever even been in Lambert's trailer before now. Under different circumstances, this would be an intriguing experience, getting to see a more casual and personal side of the Nightrider. Right now, though? She hasn't the energy or the inclination to go sniffing around.

She blinks rapidly when she enters, thrown by the darkness inside. The lights, she doesn't even bother with; there's no call for it when she basically has a headlamp built right into her forehead. Rather abruptly, her gem begins to glow intensely, casting a beam of light wherever she happens to look.

There's certainly an uncharacteristic silence about her as she follows after Lambert, though it's not exactly a mystery as to why that is. Emotional distress and exhaustion are two key factors, but she's worried about Childermass too. Lambert doesn't have to ask twice to get her to assist; with a terse nod and an affirming grunt, she hurries over to the desk as indicated and fishes around for the requested supplies, returning once she has them both in hand.

She hovers anxiously off to one side while Lambert works, casting a critical eye over the prone man, the pale green light from her gem mingling with the blue from Childermass's fae marks. There doesn't seem to be anything seriously wrong with him, from what she can tell? Granted, Peridot doesn't know much about human injuries or their treatments...

"I don't see any blood, at least?" she says hopefully. "What happened, anyway? Why did you all knock him out like that?"

[whattaprick]

It really doesn't seem that bad. Lambert holds a hand over the wound on Childermass's chest, shielding it from the light, and the strange flicker of something that vaguely resembles dark mist settles into just ... black blood, oozing out. The clothes clearly suffered worse.

"His physical injuries aren't serious." Lambert takes the bottle from Peridot, splashing some on his fingers. As soon as he moves his hand from the wounds, exposing it to the light, the smoke-like substance rises from it again, the liquid evaporating.

As for why they knocked him out ... "It was just a guess," Lambert admits, daubing some of the disinfectant on Childermass's wounds. "I don't know what a bloodbond is, but you hear something like that and it just sounds bad, right? When the Count spoke after that ... you saw how he was."

Act, don't think. Lambert thinks that it was the right decision, after the moment, but he can't say a lot of critical thought went into making it.

"He's always been easy to influence with magical suggestion. But," and he smirks, though it's slightly lopsided. "In my experience, it's usually harder to influence a mind if it isn't conscious. Those brats must have thought of the same thing." Speaking of Rin and Shima, did they make it back? Lambert isn't sure. He'll keep working as he talks, though, sizing Childermass up. A shirt he can get away with cutting, he'd probably get yelled at for cutting the vest too, especially knowing that it's really not that serious.

[periphrasing]

"I didn't see, actually," is the mildly grumpy response he gets. Her attention had been firmly elsewhere at that moment. Hopefully Lambert can pick up on the implication there for himself, since explaining any further would require Peridot to put herself much closer to the despair that she's currently trying to bottle up than she would like.

She is watching that smoke a bit more closely now, drawing a few conclusions and correcting some assumptions on her own. "You think he's going to be okay then?" she asks tentatively. "We're not going to have to worry about him still being enthralled when he wakes up, are we?"

[whattaprick]

"I don't know," Lambert admits, honestly. While he talks to Peridot, he'll get an arm under Childermass and lever him upright so he can start peeling that vest (and the remnants of his shirt) off him, careful to mind his injuries. There's an an entry and an exit wound, but the condition of the injury is about the same on both sides.

"Shima used that fire to take out vampires at the Celebration,. Rin said something about it 'toasting souls.'" A pause, looking down at Childermass, then up at Peridot. "The Ringmaster fixed Strange when he got thralled, but Strange wasn't related by blood to a fae in Portland, so I don't know." Strange, another topic both of them are better off not dwelling on right now.

[periphrasing]

Having experienced getting stabbed in the soul before, having one's soul 'toasted' is a level of unpleasantness that Peridot can't even begin to comprehend.

But, great. Even more uncertainty. All things considered, she's been holding herself together pretty well so far; too tired to cry, too overwhelmed to worry. The mention of Strange doesn't really help matters any, but oddly enough, it's the mention of the Ringmaster that finally brings everything crashing down on her.

The Engineer lets out a choking sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and slowly slumps down onto the floor until she's huddled up with her back against the side of the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin and her tail wrapped around herself. "This is a nightmare," the gem croaks. "What if the Ringmaster doesn't make it back? What if--" She pauses to swallow thickly, tears welling up in her eyes. "What if I just let go of my only chance to get Lapis back--!?"

Sorry Lambert. Because you definitely needed to be dealing with this right now, on top of everything else!

i hope you enjoy this dumb mental image

[whattaprick]

Lambert, with his back to Peridot and currently sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms awkwardly in the middle of finishing disrobing a magician and supporting his weight, doesn't exactly have free hands. He does, however, have a free tail -- and the mattress is low enough that he can awkwardly shift it back to drape over her shoulders.

"Don't be stupid," he says, with as much firm reassurance as he can muster, considering optimism doesn't come naturally to him. He finally gets Childermass's vest off and peels away cloth to expose the burn on his back, and one of the strips of Childermass's torn shirt finds a new lease on life as Lambert soaks it with disinfectant to start dabbing at the wound. Smoke blood is almost a blessing, in this case.

"She was a lot stupider and weaker in Portland, and they didn't manage to kill her then. If something happened to her, this place should be falling apart by now." Realistically, if something happened to her, fae would be invading to reclaim the Blue Rose and capturing all of them. Not a pretty thought, and not one Lambert cares to share, considering. He applies ointment carefully to the burn, and uses another strip of cloth as a makeshift bandage over it, before he carefully lowers Childermass back to the bed.

"They're not going to stop coming after. That means this isn't the last we've seen of them." Not the most reassuring thought, but it's the best he has to offer as far as Lapis is concerned.

LMAO god, thank you

[periphrasing]

Peridot lifts her head to look at the tail with surprise. It's a weird gesture, but. Not entirely unwelcome, or unappreciated.

She takes a deep breath and pushes a hand back through her hair. "You're right," she rasps, aggressively palming the tears out of her eyes with her free hand. "I'm letting my emotions get the better of me. I-I'm sorry."

That image is still clear in her head, though. The sight of that nude fae walking around wearing Lapis like a gaudy piece of jewelry. Cooing over Lapis and Jasper both like they were nothing more than shiny baubles. It... Well, it makes her blood boil, for lack of a better gem-specific phrase. And she can't even permit herself to think about what Steven must be going through right now...

It briefly occurs to her that she really should check in with Amethyst, but... The thought of having to talk a whole bunch in order to fill her in just feels like too much for Peridot to handle right now. Instead, she pushes herself back onto her feet and stands at the bedside as well, ready to help Lambert out however she can... even if it just means being an extra pair of hands for holding stuff while he works.

"At least we didn't lose Childermass," she murmurs, frowning and staring at the unconscious man's face. She means it, too; might as well look at what didn't go horribly wrong today, right? "Though that sure would have been some deja vu."

[whattaprick]

Right now, it seems there isn’t much more to help with, because Childermass’s injuries really are that startlingly minor, considering. Lambert finishes applying ointment to the wound, fixes a bandage on it, and ... there’s nothing more to do. He uses another piece of shirt to wipe his fingers off, reaches out to brush some hair back from Childermass’s slack face. Even all the jostling didn’t wake him up ... he tries not to worry about it.

It’s a cliche, but Childermass looks younger in sleep, brows not raised in sardonic inquiry or furrowed in consternation. He looks, at least to Lambert’s eyes, vulnerable— and he knows it’s a vulnerability he’d hate other people seeing.

“I thought we were going to,” he says quietly. For a moment, he’d gone right back to being that helpless, clueless idiot in Portland, about to get someone taken in front of his eyes all over again. After a moment of looking too long, he pulls his hand away, then starts undoing Childermass’s belt.

[periphrasing]

Yeah okay Peridot has been pretty indifferent to the whole business with taking Childermass's shirt off, since she has exactly zero opinions on blindingly pale white dude chest and it had been a necessity anyway, but. This strikes her as a bit uncomfortable.

"Umm, what are you doing?" she says with a considerable amount of concern. She has absolutely no interest in seeing the Acquisitioner's junk. The previous topic of conversation is (for now) forgotten.

[whattaprick]

Lambert looks up at Peridot, blinks, then looks down. Right. This probably looks bad, but he doesn’t stop, speaking as he unfastens it and pulls it free.

“There’s iron in this belt.” Iron which has thus far been of use freeing Steven from the Rose, and stabbing Lambert in the leg. Not a great track record, overall. Hopefully they’ll serve him better while he’s borrowing them. He’d set down his own arms by the side of the bed once he got Childermass on it, and he’ll rise to his feet to start buckling it on himself. It’s a bit of a tighter fit, owing to not being a skinny scarecrow of a man.

“I’m going to need it, heading out there again.”

[periphrasing]

"What-- right now?!" No time to even question why Childermass even has iron on him in the first place. Alarm snaps her out of the more subdued state she's been in up to now; she wants to assume that the witcher is talking about returning to the outside in the terms of "in the future, after we've all recovered and come up with a better plan", but. She knows Lambert better than that by this point. "Are you cracked or something? You saw how many fae were out there!"

[whattaprick]

He’d more or less expected a response like that, so Lambert doesn’t even flinch.

“Not right now,” he says. “But as soon as the Ringmaster gets back and the Carnival’s secure, I need to get people out looking for the Scribe. I still think they’re our best bet for figuring out some way to deal with this.”

[periphrasing]

Well. He does have a point there. Doesn't mean Peridot likes it, though.

"I'm coming with you," she announces at once. No room for negotiation. "I know I'm not a nightrunner, but I can still make myself useful!"

[whattaprick]

“No you’re not,” Lambert answers just as flatly. “The Count of Crows just told you he’d kill you if you weren’t in his Elysium, the Carnival needs you here in case they try to attack, and I need you to look after—”

He breaks off, looking at Childermass. He doesn’t really need to finish that sentence, does he?

[periphrasing]

Peridot's ears twitch, following Lambert's gaze over to Childermass. When she looks at the witcher once more, her expression is pained, mouth twisted into a grimace. She gets his point, but the prospect of staying behind while he goes out there and puts himself on the line is a highly unpleasant one.

"Oh, like the Count won't do exactly the same to you if he catches you?!" she demands. "That's twice now that you've basically stolen his supposed 'son' back from him, you could be just as much of a target! And I can't--" She breaks off, snarling with frustration at herself because she knows she's getting worked up again, and she hates it. It takes an effort to get her voice level so she can continue that thought. "I don't know what I'll do if someone else I care about gets taken."

[whattaprick]

It's a difficult thing to forced to stay behind when people you care about are in danger. Lambert may not have the connection Peridot does to Steven and Lapis, but substitute Strange and Childermass and it's easy enough to put himself in her position right now. If their positions were reversed? Lambert doesn't think he'd let himself be held back.

"He doesn't even see me," he says instead. "He saw you." And remembered what she'd done enough to deliver a threat. The Count of Crows sure didn't seem to remember some ordinary guy getting possessed by an Earth Spirit and rushing at him. He's just as much of a non-entity to the Count as he always was.

"I'm not going alone," he continues, arms crossed. "I'm bringing people who can hide a group, who have abilities that let them scan ahead. This kind of thing is my job -- what I'm trained to do."

She can't say the same, though he's not going to outright say that.

[periphrasing]

He doesn't really need to say it. Gems are so rigorously pigeon-holed into certain jobs based on their gem-type alone that Peridot easily goes there herself. She opens and clenches her fists repeatedly, plainly wanting to argue that point but finding herself unable to do so.

"What if something goes wrong with him?" she says instead, looking back over at Childermass. "I'm not exactly knowledgeable about human medicine!"

[whattaprick]

"Then you call someone from the medical tent," Lambert answers. He scrubs a hand back through his hair, exhaling and looking back at the gem.

"As far as I can tell, he's fine. If there's anything wrong with him, it isn't with him ... physically. His vitals are stable enough." He pauses, trying to figure out how to put words around this. "There isn't anyone else around right now that I'd trust with him like this, or that he could take seeing him like this. Please."

[periphrasing]

Peridot frowns and glances back and forth between the two men, gears turning in her head. She's not really used to seeing this sort of vulnerability from Lambert. She's not used to seeing him this openly concerned with any one person, either...

The idea still doesn't sit well with her, though. Watching him go back out there and staying behind here she can't help him if something happens.

She exhales harshly, folds her arms over her chest while glancing away, and finally relents. "Fine," she huffs quietly. "But you better check in by radio every now and then. And if you get captured or killed, I will literally never forgive you."

[whattaprick]

Although the concession isn't much, and comes with a death threat with it at that, it does make Lambert's expression lighten in relief.

"I won't." He can't really promise that, of course, but it's not like he doesn't intend to come back. For once, without requiring excessive sniveling on her part or intoxication on his, he'll reach out to pat her on the shoulder.

"We'll get Steven back." Somehow. He doesn't know how, but they've got to figure something out. "And Lapis too." He wasn't under the impression Peridot was particularly fond of Jasper or anything, ordering her to kill him aside, so he won't bother mentioning it. Though thinking of Jasper does bring something to mind.

"... Does Jasper not know the different between men and women?" He knows that question is kind of out of the blue, but after something so serious, it feels like the mood needs to be lightened somewhat, and that seems as good a topic as any.

[periphrasing]

Peridot finally looks up again, and pulls a face at him. What? What kind of question is that? Why is he choosing right now to bring this up? She's sad! They just had a touching moment of reassuring one another! And he chooses this moment to ask about Jasper's idiocy?

The problem is that Peridot is incapable of giving him shit about it, because she is basically physically incapable of hearing a question without boasting the answer to it. He has to show off what she knows. It's a compulsion.

"Uh... Probably not?" she says with a frown, scratching one ear. "Gems don't copulate with one another to reproduce like humans do, and we all invariably refer to one another with pronouns that you humans would categorize as 'feminine'. Couple that with Jasper being a stubborn rock-headed jerk who has zero interest in learning anything new, ever, who values gem superiority above all other lifeforms, and the result is her automatically referring to every new person that she meets as a 'she'."

Peridot shrugs. "If I had to theorize, I'd say she's probably continuing to do it until she's corrected simply out of disdain for alien culture, but... She might just be confused, too. I mean you have to admit, it is kind of weird that you all call one another different things based on what kind of gross fleshy bits you have between your legs, when half the time those fleshy bits in question aren't even visible. I just keep up with the trend because I make an effort to be culturally sensitive."