⇨ THE EPILOGUE

[ringleaders]

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 61
Where: The Carnival
What: After all the rescues team return, it will be matter of tending to the wounded and getting the hell out of dodge. The Ringmaster can handle the fleeing part, but someone will need to look after those in the medical tent. Or, maybe, you just want to show up and ask what the hell happened.
Warnings: Some messed up consequences of faerie fuckery.

IN REPAIR↴ As the minutes tick past, all four rescue groups will eventually return. Everyone in the carnival is encouraged to help out, ensuring that the rescues and victims both are taken care of after the fact. You can tag in here as rescuers taking care of business around the carnival, victims recovering, or other workers checking in to see what's going on. This log is for general aftermath threads, made by anyone.

Comments

[atouts]

And while that would make a great cue to say something nice about how that's obviously not true, that doesn't take into account who Lambert's talking to. That means Childermass just gives the witcher an unimpressed look and says, "Angry yelling does seem more your strength. Which, I imagine, means you won't be allowed to speak to him again."

[whattaprick]

That gets Childermass a crooked grin. Sappy isn't really their style, no, and Lambert's not really looking for a response like that anyway. That Childermass is here, beside him, instead of hidden in the shadows or watching from a distance ... that says a lot more than the magician ever could or would, even if he won't cop to it. That he's as unimpressed as ever is reassuring in a way, despite the worry from earlier.

"Probably not... considering she broke my ribs." Not to mention giving him that stunning concussion, which may or may not also be responsible for part of his disorientation at the moment.

[atouts]

"She did this?"

That's news to Childermass and he's not quite sure how to feel about it. That the Ringmaster didn't outright kill Lambert is telling, at least, was very likely her pulling her punch with him. Still...

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by it. Zangestu said she was upset with you even before she left the carnival."

[whattaprick]

"She hit me across the arena and told the place to keep me alive," Lambert explains, matter-of-factly. He remembers that much before he faded out at least, since she was narrating before he blacked out. It was weird. For as furious as she'd sounded, as furious as she looked, he'd expected that damn rebirth egg would get use in less than a month. He pauses, thinking back...

"I was pissed, I needed her to come do something about Ignatius, and I didn't want to waste a lot of time arguing about it." Well ... he did end up doing that much, in the end. From that perspective, he damn well succeeded.

"We weren't ... gonna get a chance like this again."

[atouts]

"You got what you wished, then," Childermass will say after a moment of silence, just looking at Lambert as he mulls over recent events. This could have gone better. He could tell himself that a dozen times but it won't change that things went as they did, for better or worse.

"Whatever happens now..."

He doesn't even know. What's next? Is Lambert's crazy plan worthwhile or just that, crazy? Futile? All the magician can do is shake his head some.

"We'll see. You should rest now." He can tell staying awake is a struggle all too easily. "I'll be here as much as I can be."

[whattaprick]

The witcher smiles, crookedly, and clumsily shifts his hand to squeeze the magician’s.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. “Guess you’re stuck cleaning up after someone else again.”

[atouts]

"Somehow, I doubt I'll ever see the end of that," Childermass admits, at least trying to summon some goodwill and smile a little back at him. "Just try to stay out of any other messes while this one blows over."

[whattaprick]

“I’m glad you’re here,” is the witcher’s simple answer to that. He doesn’t get much more out — not does he get to clarify that he doesn’t just mean he’s happy Childermass is around to help with the fallout — before he drifts off, fingers growing slack in the magician’s hand.