⇨ CAMPING GROUNDS

[ringleaders]

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.

Comments

[kingsroads]

And like the world's most annoying duckling, Strange just continues to follow Lambert. He's quiet as well, mostly due to the fact that he really doesn't know what to say. If this were Arabella, he'd apologize and they'd kiss and make up (and then kiss some more). But where the hell would he even start with this? And would Lambert even make an attempt at apologizing? Because a good chunk of this is still his fault, Strange hasn't forgotten that.

He starts to idly play with his magic, lightly poking at the reflective bits on his chest and shoulder while he follows Lambert to wherever the hell he's going and mulls over what to do next. If Lambert looks back to yell at Strange, he'll find the magician with his hand halfway in the mirror on his shoulder, while Strange himself obviously thinks about something else.

[whattaprick]

And the closer they get to the campsite, the more quickly evident it is that they aren’t alone. Butcher’s ears pricking are the only real warning they have before Baker suddenly bounds out of the vegetation (which between the horses and the dog, is looking thoroughly trampled) to greet them, bushy tail wagging. He’d been peacefully napping when Lambert left, unaware his master was being spirited away too. He’s bored.

It’s Lambert he stops to greet first, the witcher deftly redirecting his doggy kisses with one hand with the ease of long practice while Butcher prances around his father. With what Strange knows now, those grandfather jokes from before may seem all too apt... but soon enough, Baker directs his attention to the magician, head cocking inquisitively.

“It’s Strange,” Lambert says, by way of explanation. And Strange is ... putting his hand through his shoulder? What the fuck?

[kingsroads]

Good Lord, this is all so bizarrely domestic. Dad's home from taking the puppy for a walk, time to pet the dog and put his feet up. Strange is so baffled by the sight of Lambert, Butcher, and Baker that he forgets he's idly fiddling with his reflections and just kind of leaves his hand in his shoulder for a moment. It's only when Lambert starts talking, that Strange moves his hand back to his side and makes a small kiss noise in Baker's direction.

Baker makes a little 'whuff' as he looks at Strange. The dog then walks over, sniffs Strange experimentally...and gives him a big ol'doggy slobber kiss right on the top of his head. It is amazing the amount of dog slobber that Strange now has in his hair and on his face. He wipes some away from his eyes with a sleeve while some of Strange's hair relights itself. Obviously, this will not do, and Baker gives Strange's hair another giant slobbery lick.

It's hard to be angry at someone when you're getting puppy kisses and Strange can't help but hold back a little laugh. "Baker, no, stop that." Sluuuuurp. "Call him off, Lambert!"

[whattaprick]

“You think he listens to me?” Lambert snorts. You’re on your own, hotman. With Butcher distracted, Lambert is left to make his slower way to the tent on his own, settling his ass down on one of the sleeping bags dragged outside to provide a place to sit and nap in the sun. He picks at the bandage on his arm, working to rewind it. The scarring shouldn’t affect his range of motion much — it looks worse than it is — but it’s still an abstract worry.

Baker’s tail just ways faster at the hair that keeps relighting itself. Is this a new game? Sorry, Strange, you’re going to have to deal with this for a while.

[kingsroads]

It takes about ten minutes, but eventually, an intensely slobbered-on Strange and a very happy Baker make their way back to the tent. Baker's prancing happily, holding a dead jackalope in his mouth. The prey drive took preference over kisses. Baker drops the dead animal by Lambert's feet and gives him a happy bark.

"You get to deal with that," Strange complains. He's less cranky now, more downright exhausted. Guess who tried to chase that damn dog when he ran off to catch the rabbit, hint, it's Strange.

Strange plops his ass down on another of the sleeping bags, as he tries in vain to run his fingers through his hair and get it back to something slightly presentable. He's still not leaving Lambert alone, despite the fact that he's fairly certain Lambert isn't going to be the one to make the first move.

[whattaprick]

It’s never going to be presentable as long as it’s yours, Strange. Lambert eyes the dead jackalope with a sigh, then rolls up to get away from the sleeping bag — he doubts Childermass would appreciate blood on it, even if it isn’t technically theirs — to begin skimming and cleaning the damn thing. He’s seen Childermass do that plenty enough these past few days that he knows how to do it.

“He wants the insides,” he explains, as he works. “Childermass has been feeding them to him since we got here.”

Childermass, who isn’t back yet from ... wherever the Ringmaster took him. Lambert scowls down at the rabbit corpse. Not that he expected a quick resolution, but he doesn’t know when it’ll be over, either.

[kingsroads]

Okay, that's a bit gross. Still, dogs will be dogs: even if they're large six foot tall fire-breathing fluff monsters, they'll still like to chase and eat fantasy animals. Strange continues to attack his hair, vaguely watching Lambert out of the corner of his eye.

Strange had planned to sit on the sleeping bag and just ignore Lambert. But his lack of any knowledge on how to skin and clean a dead animal gets the better of him. He looks over at what Lambert's doing...then scoots a bit closer towards Lambert...then straight up gets up from the sleeping bag and walks over, getting in Lambert's light a bit.

"What's Childermass doing with the pelts?" A horrible mental image of a jackalope fur coat briefly plays in Strange's mind before he banishes it away to somewhere else.

[whattaprick]

"Nothing," Lambert shrugs. "I've been salting them, but I don't know if I'm making anything out of them yet."

He makes quick and efficient work of the jackalope, making the incisions needed to cut the skin free from the body and then pulling the whole thing off in a surprisingly easy motion. Setting the fur aside for cleaning later, he guts the thing and lets Baker have it, leaving him with meat to preserve and a fur to clean.

"I need cold water to wash this out with," he tells Strange. "Think you can manage that?"

[kingsroads]

He watches intently, only wrinkling his nose slightly when Lambert gets to the gross guts bits. At Lambert's question, he gives the other man a look like he's an idiot.

"Of course I can," Strange answers, like Lambert asked him to do something as simple as pick something up. "Do you have a bucket or something like that to catch the water?"

Because of course Strange is going to make it rain.

[whattaprick]

"There's a pot behind the tent you can use. Do it over there, by the trees." Lambert points away from them, to a goodly distance. Butcher likes the mud, so creating a big spot near the tent that's practically an invitation to roll around is overall a terrible idea (assuming Strange even cares it's a terrible idea). Also, Lambert doesn't want to get wet.

[kingsroads]

Strange nods. He stands up, walks behind the tent to grab the pot, then goes out towards the trees. It's about ten minutes before he comes back with a pot mostly full of water. Strange himself is mostly dry, though there's the sort of muggy stickiness that lingers in the air, after the rain.

Wordlessly, Strange sets the pot down near Lambert. There's a few chunks of ice floating in the water as well: this thing is cold. Give Mr. No Upper Arm Strength over here a moment to catch his breath because he definitely needs it.

[whattaprick]

By the time the magician comes back, he'll find the witcher hasn't moved far from where he left him -- except to light up a slighty squashed cigarette to while away the time.

The water's cold, but that's exactly what Lambert needs for this, and he won't even make a snarky comment about Strange's obviously huffing and puffing before he takes the pot. He uses a mug as a makeshift dipper to start scooping water out for what he needs, first cleaning out the body cavity, then letting the jackalope rest in the water to keep the meat cool while he works on the skin, using a knife to scrape membranes and blood free. The head with its antlers is set aside for now, Lambert having yet to decide a satisfactory use for those.

Unless Strange has anything to say, the witcher's going to keep working quietly. It's not a comfortable silence, exactly, but it's theoretically better than picking another fight, which would be all too easy.

[kingsroads]

It's as Lambert starts cleaning out the animal that Strange realizes he's just so tired of this. He could continue to hound Lambert and bother him, but what's the point? The witcher obviously doesn't want to talk. Strange could be doing so many better things with his time.

He is going to try and get the last word in, though. Because he's petty like that.

"The worst thing about all of this is that I'm happy for you," Strange explains. His tone is a mixture of tired and annoyed as he continues talking. "It'd be so much easier for me to hate you and yell at you for keeping this a secret for all those months. But I'm happy you found someone and you're comfortable enough to say you love them." There's a pause. "But God in heaven, you two idiots should have done this differently."

Having decided that's enough for him to say, Strange hesitates for a moment before turning his back and starting to walk away.

[whattaprick]

Yeah, well, about that ‘comfort’ thing — Lambert can’t help grimacing when Strange mentions it again, looking up. He could point out that Strange did, in fact, yell at him, seems to be looking for excuses to yell further at him (since generally Lambert opening his mouth is reason enough), wouldn’t have had to find out this way if he hadn’t made the dumbass assumption Lambert was in love with him, and has a funny way of showing he’s happy for him, but—

All that would accomplish is more yelling, really. Also, he can 100% tell this is Strange being petty.

“Get some rest while you can, Strange,” is all Lambert answers, finally, loud enough to be heard over the sluice of water.