lostcarnival | ⇨ FAERIE TALES

Ignatius pauses to give Zangetsu a once-over, as if he's examining something in detail. Eventually, his lip curls into a faint smile of satisfaction, apparently having determined something of worth from it.

"So," he says, looking at Syrlya. "Tell me more about this magic what will make Rita my 'equal' match, as you put it."

Rita sighs, seemingly annoyed. "Fine. I guess you're not as stupid as you look." It's not like they can pretend Rita's going to use nothing but normal magic accessible to humans against someone of his level. She'll have to show her hand... or part of it, anyway.

From a pouch, she pulls out a vial filled with a slightly cloudy red liquid. "This is a potion our Doctor made. After I drink it, I'll be fully immune to fire for the next hour or so. If you want to injure me, you'll have to do it directly."

And with a cold, confident look, she adds, "Besides... I'm not the same as that girl you knew in Portland. You don't have any idea of what I'm capable of."

Ignatius's question makes Lambert's tail flick, eyes narrowing. He doesn't have much of an impression of Ignatius, besides being loud, straightforward, and apparently down for a fight. Most of the plan (or as much of one as they had) hinged on Ignatius accepting the duel and whatever Rita planned to accomplish with the Athenaeum's aid. Right now, it looks like they're not even about to get to agree to terms.

But when Rita starts speaking ... he's reminded, again, that they're in a story. A story they control, at least as much as the Athenaeum's powers will allow them. They need to think of themselves as victors, not victims.

"She's right. She's not the girl you remember," he interjects after Rita, folding his arms and letting pride fill his voice.

"She's also the Guardian of Knowledge -- a champion chosen by Creation, given its strength. That makes her more than capable of holding her own against one of you." Luckily for Lambert, he doesn't have to pull on much imagination for this bit, because it actually happened ... more or less. The Scribe's writings had stuck close to reality with some narrative liberties, but what had really happened was fantastical enough without needing embellishment. Childermass may not have defeated Nightshade, but she also hadn't completely wiped the floor with him. If Ignatius agrees to the duel's terms, it's more than enough for a fight to first injury.

If he doesn't agree ... well, it'll be useful someone who can call on Creation in any brawl that follows, anyway.

Edited 2018-06-03 23:03 (UTC)

Syrlya holds his gaze right back at Ignatius, pausing enough for Rita to interject--and in that moment he's thankful for her boldness.

He smiles, glancing to Lambert, but holds the growing confidence from approaching his expression. "That's right. And she holds a stone to enhance her magic well above the potency of any mortal--it may not be a Queen's miracle, but it certainly grants her enough power that she can lay injury to you."

Or at least, that's what he hopes the narrative turns the bloodstone into. It's probably not far off from what a whole one could do, even if this is just a shard. He can believe that.

Ignatius makes a big show out of pondering their offer, considering her alleged status as a Guardian. He doesn't seem worried, however. Instead, he's smirking.

"A Guardian of Creation? I've seen the like before." He's looking her over carefully. "In fact, I've felled more than one."

He shrugs his shoulders, ever casual.

"However, my answer will have to be 'no.'"

... Okay, he'll bite. "Why? You do not seem like the sort to refuse out of the potential to be challenged--do you not think her capable?"

"Or maybe you're scared you'll actually lose to a mortal," Rita chimes in with a sneer.

"I would embrace challenge... were the contest something that would aid the goals of my home and my Queen." He shrugs a shoulder again. "Alas, my duty comes before my pride. With how you've gone so far to sell yourself as an even match, and to set such strict terms... I will not risk failing my quest for the sake of my personal interests."

He looks at Rita, grinning in a faintly apologetic manner.

"Sad to say... you're just not worth that much to me, my dear."

Yikes. Harsh. So much for being fireproof, because that was quite the burn.

“Well, what WOULD make it worth your while?”

"The Rose, obviously." Lambert snorts." It's what they said they wanted in the first place."

Negotiations aren't Lambert's forte, but no sense in not taking advantage of the moment to try and pry out some more information while they've got him talking, and see if they can provoke a reaction while smarter people come up with an alternative.

"Though I guess what the Queen probably really wants more than that is her Maiden back."

Ignatius pauses to give Lambert a discerning look.

"Were that in your power to give, I'm sure it would be in the best interests of my Court. However, the will of the Summer Maiden is her own, as I'm sure you know."

"Oh, I know it is." With Ignatius's attention on him, Lambert grins. This part is easy enough, if only because he honestly doesn't know the answer and wants to see what Ignatius has to say.

"Do you even know where she is? Or is she strong enough that you can't go after her, even if it means Summer's strength will never be what it should be?" He twirls a finger through the air, idly. "She's made a nice enough place for herself, if dancing and trees are your thing."

He makes a middling gesture with his hand.

"Would you want an heir that you brought home by force?" He crosses his arms over his chest. There is some age-old resignation at work, here. "An open battle would only cull the numbers of both sides, making it even more impossible for the Summer Court to recover."

"Besides... the Queen is well aware that the Maiden was part of the old insurrection. Seems like inviting trouble, in a way."

Ouch. The personal jab doesn't hurt quite so much as the feeling of their plan crumbling apart. Damn it... There has to be something, still. Maybe...

"Forget the Maiden," Rita interjects. "If you want the Rose, that's all the more reason to want one of us. I know where it is. Strange might be able to tell you all kinds of information, but there's one thing I still have that he doesn't: access." The Ringmaster did say she revoked it, preventing those kidnapped from re-entering. The same would be done to Rita if she were taken... but only after she learned about it.

But as she says it, her heart pounds heavily in her chest. Risking herself is one thing, but risking the Rose means risking everyone.

Edited 2018-06-04 00:23 (UTC)

"Sure," he says, almost dismissively in his briefness. "Bring the Rose to me, and your wizard will be returned to you."

Syrlya just about chokes, briefly crumpling the contract in his hands as he stares at Rita.

And then, of course, Ignatius suggests only a trade and he smooths the contract out. "We will duel for ownership of the Rose, not trade. The Ringmaster did not willingly release it in an exchange before, and that will not change."

Nevermind she had more of a plan than this... he looks at Rita uncertainly. "Is that still not a chance worthwhile?"

"Unless you have the Rose in your hands, there's no deal," he says, firmly. "I need not waste my time with a duel, only for you to go back to the realm and be devoured by the Great Beast for your treachery."

He's one step away from 'talk to the hand' on that idea.

Edited 2018-06-04 00:40 (UTC)

"Unless you have the wizard in your hands, there's no deal either," Lambert objects.

"I've seen what Nightshade did to Strange before. I want to know we aren't getting broken goods."

"I would argue that he was broken when I got him," Ignatius says lightly.

"Whatever state of mind he's in still one of ours," the witcher retorts hotly, fists balling by his side. This isn't getting them much of anywhere, and it doesn't seem to be getting them any closer to bringing them their magician.

Fine. If the plan they came up with isn't looking likely to work the way they wanted it to, then it's time to improvise -- the way they always do.

"If you won't bring him here, I'll do it myself!" Is this a bad idea? Possibly, but he's got nothing else, and maybe they'll be able to luck out and crack the magician over the head to save him from himself. He drops to a knee and thrusts out a hand holding a gem -- those familiar with it will recognize it as Strange's support gem -- and recites, rapid-fire:

"Jonathan Strange, by your bond of blood to me, I summon you with your memories!" It's really not much of a chant, but he's not an expert in this, okay? And he literally has a blood contract to Strange, that better be good for something. As he finishes, a hard twist of his wrist sets the gem spinning on the coliseum stones, and creepy music box music starts playing out of nowhere, filling the air. In the air above the gem starts playing out a scene from Strange's memory...

Edited 2018-06-04 01:32 (UTC)

The memory that plays is entirely devoid of context. Strange smiles at Arabella who runs up to him, entirely relieved, and gives him a hug. It's definitely something that probably should be private, based on how happy memory-Strange looks and how absolutely relieved memory-Arabella looks.

And then, in the dead center of the summoning circle, Strange appears. He's distracted by the memory for a second, eyes unsurprisingly drawn to Arabella before he puts two and two together and realizes he has no idea how the hell he got here in the first place.

It's like a switch flips in his brain from 'dopey husband' to 'battlefield ready.' Strange tenses up, not saying anything but obviously ready for a fight, as he summons a fireball to his hand and his eyes dart around the room as he tries to get his bearings and take in the situation.

Of all the things that Ignatius was expecting, that wasn't one of them. It shouldn't be possible - Strange was, by all rights, his. No one should be able to summon him without his consent.

Though maybe that's what he gets for consorting with the magical oath equivalent of an absolute whore.

Ignatius grits his teeth, falling back into a battle-ready pose. As casual and light-hearted as he's been, the change of circumstances is enough to get his attention - when he isn't sure of his victory, he isn't so foolish as to treat a conflict lightly.

"Strange, ready yourself, they are wielding some kind of magic I'm unfamiliar with," he says, and immediately attempts to teleport the two of them away and back to the gardens in a swirl of flame.

Well, it was a good plan. Was. But Ignatius isn’t as hot-headed as his appearance would imply. Time to think of something, quick.

Plan B? Plan B. This was their story. They were the protagonists. They WOULD be successful, one way or another.

Lambert summons Strange, and as soon as the brainwashed magician is on the scene, Zangetsu begins to narrate again.

“Ignatius was a bit more clever than the brave heroes gave him credit for, but the group didn’t charge in without several backup plans. The magic circle that Rita drew wasn’t just for summoning!”

Zangetsu stabs his sword into the ground, sending white-red energy along the ground and illuminating the circle, changing it from plain charcoal to brilliant light.

“The circle was also an incredibly powerful trap! Once activated, the coliseum became an inescapable prison for Ignatius and the kidnapped magician. The heroes came prepared, and the trap could not be disarmed until the group decided it should be so!”

His spell doesn't work.

If a fae made mostly of flame could sweat, he would be. It shows on his face - his absolute shock, and deep unease. He doesn't have the practice to contain it. Things like this happen so rarely, and every time it's been a nightmare.

That fear can't remain, however. It has to be something useful, and so soon after it's swelled into anger. So, it was a trap, after all!

"Strange, I need you to help me kill them," Ignatius says, his voice tense. "Go!"

Ignatius draws his sword.

So much is happening all at once. When Ignatius mentions he's unfamiliar with the magic, Strange decides that he can help with that. After all, he can see magic. He activates his third eye: the burns on his forehead, hand, and elbow outline themselves in an eye shape with magical fire as Strange quickly glances at his surroundings.

All he can see is the magic of the Athenaeum. Which, considering that they're in the damn library to begin with, is intensely unhelpful. This is stupid! Of course that's the only magic he could see!

He's scowling slightly as he looks over to Ignatius to tell him that, but the fae gets the word in first. Strange's expression shifts and he just looks downright pleased that Ignatius is trusting him to help and murder these troublemakers. "Of course, my lord," he simply responds. And then, barely even a second later, Strange lobs that fireball he's holding in Rita's direction.

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