lostcarnival | ⇨ CAMPING GROUNDS

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⇨ CAMPING GROUNDS

Who: Everybody!
When: Day 64
Where: The Camping Grounds
What: While the Ringmaster attempts to purge the carnival of magical tracing spells and deal with the angry fire fae in her belly, everyone else is getting sent on an emergency camping trip with some unusual local fauna.
Warnings: Camping.

CRYPTIC CAMPGROUNDS↴

You're given about three hours to prepare, after the Ringmaster tells you her plans for the coming week. There is a vast selection of camping equipment at your disposal, and the means to take along enough food for the length of the stay. The wilderness of the planet you're left on is nearly idyllic, but some people just don't like the great outdoors.

► CRYPTOZOOLOGY: As it turns out, the carnival won't be alone here. There is a varied ecosystem of cryptids to be found as well, living in relative peace and mostly reacting to the newcomers with curiousity. More details can be found on the plotting post. You are free to NPC the cryptids as much as you need to, as long as you stick to the behaviours described.

► DREAMSHARING: There is a player plot going on which will allow characters to share dreams! These are specifically more dreams than nightmares, and the mushi-adept characters will be here to help.

► CHILLAX: There isn't any plot twist for this setting, so this is mostly an opportunity to decompress from the last plot and get ready for the future. The Ringmaster will show up occasionally to help with needed medical treatments and check on things, but won't stick around for long.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Strange is just assuming that the charred and kicked across the arena was Ignatius's doing. It's a pretty reasonable assumption, especially considering how much Lambert and the rest fucked him over. Of course he'd be pissed.

"I literally came back from the dead," Strange points out, with a little shrug. "I have an excuse." A shitty one, but still counts. He notices Lambert's look at his hair. Thankfully, Butcher distracts Strange from calling Lambert out on that. He bends down to get at eye level with the donkey, partly to rub Butcher's head, partly to protect his junk. He remembers you kicking 9S in his nonexistent balls, you awful little horse, that ain't gonna happen here.

Might as well start with the elephant in the room. Strange is still focusing his attention on Butcher as he talks. "I know what you, Rita, and Syrlya did to Ignatius." And based on his tone, Strange is not happy about it. "If it happens again, I'll quit."

Surprisingly, maybe, there isn’t any yelling. If Strange bothers to look up, Lambert just looks preoccupied, like he’s thinking something over. Butcher, in the meantime, happily pushes himself into Strange’s hands. Pet him or suffer the painful consequences, my dude.

“That works out, actually,” Lambert says, after a beat. “Because I was going to ask you to.”

Wait, what? Strange does look up now because that is not an answer he was expecting in the slightest. He's terrible at hiding his emotions so that confusion is written across his face, plain and simple. He continues to pet Butcher, but it's not as attentive as it was beforehand.

"I beg your pardon?"

This is a conversation Lambert would rather have sitting down, so he does that — finds a fallen-over log long covered in moss and lichen and sits his dragon ass down, tail curling around his lap.

“I want you to quit the nightrunners,” he says, formally. He isn’t going to elaborate beyond that, watching Strange for his reaction first.

Is this a joke? Is Lambert playing some elaborate practical joke on him? Strange is downright confused. Yes, he said that he would quit if that binding and mental manipulation happened again, but that's a big fat if. And surely Lambert wouldn't do it again, right? Hopefully?

"And why do you want me to do that?"

Where does Strange want him to start? Lambert shrugs.

“The obvious reason is that you’re compromised,” he says, simply. “As far as I know, you’ve still got that contract with Nightshade, and it’s only Childermass’s favor that keeps her from calling that in. Now you’re serving Ignatius. If he was dead, maybe it wouldn’t be a problem, but since he’s alive and we couldn’t get him to give you up, I don’t know how much control he has over you.”

He could ask the Ringmaster, but ... well, there’s a lot more he needs to talk to the Ringmaster about really.

“Second, you know too much, you’re too powerful, and you’ve got soft cheese for mental defenses. We’re the first in to any world we visit — I don’t want you getting caught again just to be used against the Carnival.”

“If you have a problem with the way we handled Ignatius, I wanna know — would you care if we did the same thing to the Rose Queen? To Nightshade?” He cocks his head. “If the answer’s yes, you probably shouldn’t work under me anymore. Because if I get the chance again, if I think it needs doing, I will.”

Strange clenches his fists as Lambert goes off the litany of reasons. Any attempts at petting Butcher have been completely ignored as he listens to, what Strange thinks, is bullshit excuse after bullshit excuse. Not being a nightrider didn't save anyone from the Void. Not being a nightrider didn't save anyone from the Prince.

"It would be less of a problem if he thought I was dead—which he probably did, until you decided to hurt him enough that the Ringmaster had no choice to bring him here." Because of course she wouldn't kill him. That's the one thing Strange is certain of in this whole mess, that while she did kill a True Fae in the past, the Ringmaster wouldn't do so again. "There's no point in hiding the fact that you're alive when you're stuck in the same damn realm as the person you're trying to hide from."

Which Strange views as 100% Lambert's fault. What's one magician in the grand scheme of things. If Ignatius had the entire multiverse at his disposal, he might have forgotten about Strange eventually. But nope, dragging his ass here changes all that! Strange gets up, outright ignoring Butcher as he looks up at Lambert with a scowl.

"Besides, I know the real reason you want me off the team," Strange continues, as he narrows his eyes in Lambert's direction. "You don't want to see me hurt."

“I want you off my team because I don’t want to be responsible for you,” Lambert says, bluntly. Butcher looks between witcher and magician, ears perked curiously. Pokemon are smarter than humans tend to give them credit for, and he can sense the rising tension in the air as surely as a coming storm.

“You do plenty enough, get yourself hurt enough, without me telling you to. What’s the difference losing what it’s called? Besides, you said it yourself— you’re already thinking about it.” He waves a hand, vaguely.

Edited 2018-06-13 23:04 (UTC)

Surprising no one, Strange is already getting close to yelling. Because Lambert doesn't want to be responsible for him? Oh that excuse is bullshit and Strange has had twenty four or so hours of mulling over Lambert's actions in the Athenaeum to figure out a theory as to just how bullshit it is. He's also had twenty four hours or so of Childermass, Rita, Gongenzaka, Syrlya, and numerous others chastising him for his actions so honestly? Strange is about to reach his boiling point. His fists are clenched, and Strange is literally steaming with anger.

"Don't lie to me," he hisses, as he jabs Lambert's chest with a clawed finger. "I know exactly why you want me off the team and it's the same reason why Zangetsu had to kill me and why you kissed me in the Athenaeum. You want me off the team because you don't want to see me hurt because you're in love with me."

At this point, the hand that isn't pointed in Lambert's direction spontaneously lights itself on fire. Strange 100% doesn't notice it and instead keeps yelling. "Not being a nightrider doesn't keep people safe, you know!"

Lambert’s about to come up with a response to that, he really is, and probably at volume too — just because Strange doesn’t like his reasons doesn’t mean they’re not his reasons, and if Strange doesn’t get that finger out his chest Lambert is going to bite it off — but then the magician comes out with, well, that, and it completely derails his train of thought.

For a pregnant moment or two, Lambert can only stare at Strange, not even hearing what he says next, brow knitting in perplexment. He can’t be serious. Then the witcher gets a good look at his face.

He is absolutely serious.

It’s that realization, more than anything else, that finally makes Lambert crack. Butcher takes a step back as the witcher suddenly doubles over in loud, raucous laughter that echoes around the clearing and spooks more than a handful of the local wildlife.

After about fifteen seconds of this, it’s plain that Lambert isn’t about to stop, even as his stomach hitches painfully and his eyes start to water, coming dangerously close to falling backwards.

This is only serving to make Strange angrier and angrier which means that he's setting more and more of himself on fire: a fun trick that he didn't know he could do until right now. Both fists are on fire and the fire in Strange's hair is slowly making it's way past the tips to set the rest of his head on fire.

Why's Lambert laughing?! This isn't funny! Strange has an entire list of reasons why Lambert was in love with him, starting with 'that conversation where Lambert literally asked Strange if he was fine with men dating other men', with 'that other conversation where Lambert said he fancied someone in the carnival' in the middle, and ending with 'Lambert outright kissing Strange.' This makes sense! And yet Lambert is laughing?

By the time second fifteen or so has rolled around, Strange has decided this has gone on long enough. With a gesture of his hand, the ground under Lambert's feet buckles and shifts. If Strange has his way, this'll knock the witcher on his ass. But if Lambert manages to remain upright, it should at least give him enough of a shock to stop laughing at him.

Strange, you asshole, your best friend (though it’s admittedly questionable if Lambert deserves the title at the moment) has a concussion. Defenseless as he is, Lambert can only yelp in alarm through laughter as he’s turned over and he falls onto his back, ankles still hooked over the log he was sitting on. At least the laughter seems to be dying down (with a wince, as he holds a hand to his stomach), but otherwise Lambert’s left grinning like a moron at the sky.

“And how,” he manages, finally, around gasps. “Did you come up with that?”

Sure, sure, Shima had also asked as much, but Shima also doesn’t know him as well as Strange theoretically should. Childermass was right, the man is impossibly thick.

That concussion is 100% Lambert's own damn fault, no mercy here. Strange is still seething, still intensely on fire, and still giving Lambert nothing but death glares. Just own up to it, you coward! Let him let you down gracefully, he'd be good at that! He's halfway through muttering a different spell when Lambert speaks and Strange cuts himself off.

Lambert's spared being drenched...for now, at least. Jury's still out on if this would last through the next five minutes.

"I'm certain you asked me about England's and my own tolerance of same sex relationships when I was high out of my mind for a reason. It must have been terribly inconvenient to you that I remembered the conversation. Add in the fact that you have a crush on someone at the carnival, that you'd take on a contract for my benefit, that you'd willingly settle in England despite giving off every impression that you loathe it, and that you kissed me, it makes the choice obvious."

There's an implied tone of 'you dipshit' throughout Strange's summation, as if he's pointing out to a child something intensely obvious. Because, at least in Strange's mind, this is intensely obvious. And that's just a few points! He can come up with more, he's got plenty of ammo and way too much egotism!

The witcher listens to all the reasons the magician is listing off with a moronic grin on his face. He can’t help it — he gets how Strange could have come to that conclusion, but that’s only because Strange is apparently incapable of seeing anything that doesn’t directly involve him. Lambert’s still incredibly pissed at Strange, but that doesn’t make how incredibly off the mark the supposedly intelligent magician is any less hilarious.

“Strange,” Lambert enunciates, slowly. “I’m not in love with you.”

The ‘you fucking moron’ may not be outright stated, but it sure is implied by his tone. And since everyone else, Childermass included, seems capable of picking up on it without Lambert ever saying it, he might as well put Strange out of his misery.

“I’m in love with Childermass.”

Strange's face goes through the whole range of expressions in ten or so seconds as he just gapes. Confused as to why Childermass, puzzlement as Strange puts together some of the pieces as to 'why Childermass', anger as Strange realizes that Lambert and Childermass must have been seeing each other for MONTHS without keeping him in the loop.

Those were not moon sleepovers.

He's intensely happy that Lambert has someone he loves and must be in a happy relationship if it's been going this long. This does not negate the fact that Jonathan Strange is going to murder Lambert in his sleep that he's gone for so long without knowing this and that he's made a damn fool of himself trying to set Lambert up with people despite the fact that he was already taken.

"You ass!" Strange yells, as he swings a punch at Lambert's face with a hand that is currently on fire. Whoops.

Lambert might be prone on the ground and his ribs complaining at every movement, but he’s not entirely helpless. A flick of his fingers brings a shield up for Strange’s flaming hand to crash into, and his tail whips out to grab a leg and try to yank him off balance, hoping to send him tumbling into the dirt beside Lambert.

Surprising everyone, Strange's reflexes leveled up a smidge during Iggy's training from hell. His hand connects with the shield with a small thud: after all, there's not much he can do there. But as Lambert's tail whips out, Strange turns himself into smoke. He floats to Lambert's side, away from the shield, resolidifies, then tries to kick Lambert in the ribs instead.

In Strange's defense, he has absolutely no idea that it's the ribs specifically that are busted to hell and back.

Lambert manages to put up an arm to shield his ribs and catch the blow, thankfully, but that absolutely isn’t changing the fact that he has to move quickly to do it and he hisses sharply, going pale as he grits his teeth.

Butcher, who’s been watching the proceedings with some confusion, immediately perks up alertly, pivoting to deliver a kick at the magician with rock-steady legs.

And the MVP of this fight goes to Butcher. The Pokemon's hooves connect with the back of Strange's leg. He falls to the ground, smack down in the dirt, partly on top of Lambert. Thankfully, Strange's hands and head aren't as flammable now so nothing's set on fire. There's a second or so where it looks like he's going to try and punch Lambert again before common sense and a healthy fear of being kicked in the head pop up.

So, Strange just scowls, like this is still all Lambert's fault and he's a complete moron (because it is and he is!!!)

"You should have told me," Strange grumbles, as he moves off of Lambert. "I thought we were friends."

“What part of ‘kicked across an arena’ did you miss?” Lambert wheezes, shoving Strange ... and spitefully extinguishing his hair with a wave of the hand and a puff of wind for good measure. Butcher looks like he’s getting ready to wind up again, but a gesture from the witcher makes him settle, prancing in place.

“We are friends, for some reason,” Lambert says tiredly. “He didn’t know how you’d take it, so he asked me not to say anything the first time we slept together. Then...”

Lambert trails off.

Strange's hair remains extinguished for all of two seconds. Then, it relights itself again. Strange doesn't bother getting up. Instead, he flops down on the ground next to Lambert, sulking still and staying out of range of Butcher.

"So I didn't know at first because Childermass is an idiot and you're a pushover." Guess what! He's still mad! "But there was still plenty of time for you to have told me afterwards."

Lambert’s quiet for a long moment, claws tracing the dirt beside him.

“I didn’t tell you because it was just sex, Strange,” he says, flushing slowly. There is no ‘just sex’ with Childermass, not anymore, and in retrospect it was obvious it hadn’t been 'just sex’ for a while.

“It took me a while to figure out.”

Just sex. If it was just sex, then Lambert wouldn't be blushing so much. If it was just sex, then Lambert wouldn't have asked Strange about England's attitude towards these sorts of things. His anger's abiding slightly as he looks over at Lambert with a frown, watching him as Strange pieces together a few more things.

"Have you ever been in love before this?" It's a question that comes out of nowhere, but it's important for Strange to ask. After all, here's Lambert, the man who prides himself on being a killer, who's said that most people view witchers as freaks, who's come from a world that seems intent on kicking him in the face whenever possible. It's a valid question and Strange is so worried that he knows what the answer is.

Ugh, he just had to ask that, didn’t he? Hopefully Strange is getting all his satisfaction out of making Lambert squirm (not literally, since that hurts) as he puts his arm over his face, muttering mutinously but honestly:

“No. Not like this.”

Edited 2018-06-14 02:17 (UTC)

And for like the first time during this whole conversation, Strange smiles. Trying to navigate awkward feelings, nights of thinking about that person, simply enjoying their company, finding that moment when you realize that you'll do so many stupid things for this person if it'll just make them laugh or make them smile? Been there, done that.

"Want any tips?"

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