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

"We talked for a while," Strange starts to explain. "He told me about that business with the Winter Queen, which it looks like everyone here already knows." Thanks for that Count, not like Strange was going to enjoy pointing out to everybody he knows things they don't or anything like that.

"After that, we started training. I was supposed to be a soldier in his army, so he ran me through a series of battlefield maneuvers and training exercises. I won't lie and say it wasn't challenging. But it could have been worse."

He's keeping his voice as level as he can, but there's not really any trace of anger or hatred in Strange's voice as he talks about Ignatius. His voice hitches every now and then, like he's describing something terrible, but there isn't that trace of venom that's present in Strange's tone whenever he speaks about Nightshade.

Rita's brow furrows, a bewildered look on her face.

"Training," she sputters, nearly speechless.

She doesn't believe him. Whatever it was, whatever happened, there's no way it was just training.

Strange knows she doesn't believe him. But like hell Strange is telling Rita the full truth, not when she hates Ignatius so much already. Things like Ignatius reading his essence, that unbearable pain, that's straight up not being mentioned. And if he can downplay the training, then so be it, that's what he'll do.

"It was all in my head," he admits. "Whatever spell he used, it put me in various battlefields with a varied group of servicemen. I thought it must have been at least a week but I've asked around and I was only in his thrall for a couple of days."

Or, at least, the training was. The effects certainly weren't.

Rita's frown deepens, her face scrunching up as she anticipates this getting horrible, but finds that Strange either doesn't reach such a point, or glosses right over it.

"That can't be all it was," she says plainly.

Normally, she'd let it slide. Being captured by fae can be a harrowing experience. Some people wouldn't want to talk about it, or they wouldn't want to make others worry. But with Ignatius involved, Rita can't just ignore what might have happened.

Whereas Strange is downright confused by Rita's statement. Of course it was all it was. What on earth does Rita expect? Physical violence, like what happened with Nightshade? Some form of torture like what happened with Steven? Strange is deliberately underplaying things, but he didn't think he was underplaying them that much.

"But that is all it was," he points out, downright confused. "Honestly, this isn't like what happened with Nightshade. Ignatius respected me—I spent most of my stay unenthralled. And he's certainly not sadistic. I wouldn't have fought the three of you except for the fact that you summoned me."

Strange's tone of voice is shifting a little as he gets a bit too needlessly defensive of the whole thing.

Ignatius respected him? He's not sadistic?

There's a flicker of anger in Rita's face, and for a moment, it looks like she's about to scream at him again. But it fades in an instant, replaced by a look of confusion and contemplation, as if she's trying to solve an annoying riddle.

"Hold still," she commands him, though it's not like he has much choice when he's bedridden like this. She leans forward, sweeps out a hand, and conjures a magic analysis interface, its target clearly being Strange. With this, she'll be able to see any enchantments he's afflicted with.

The suspicion being, of course, that he's still under some kind of enthrallment.

When Rita calls forth her interface, Strange goes ahead and summons up his third eye: he wants to know what the hell she's doing. His forehead, hand, and forearm light up with magical fire as Strange squints at Rita's interface and he tries to piece out all the bits and pieces of that spell. Because 'hold still'? She's trying to do something to him, isn't she.

"What exactly is that spell?"

Rita can see the way too many contracts that Strange is under: the Ringmaster's, Nightshade's, Ignatius's, even his blood contract with Lambert, as well as the curse cast by the Gentleman that still lingers on him from London. But he's not under any mental enthrallment.

Rita flinches, as if expecting that fire to indicate some sort of danger. But a moment passes, and she relaxes, though she gives that burning eye on his forehead a wary stare before continuing.

"I showed you before. It's used to identify and analyze magic in greater detail," she replies as she taps her fingers against the keyboard, her eyes scanning the display as it reveals abstract-looking shapes and strings of complex runes. She examines, with some exasperation (how can there be so many?), the details of each, occasionally lingering on an item of interest before skimming along to the next.

"You're acting like a brainwashed idiot, so I had to see for sure," she grumbles as she continues reading.

Well Strange can't really do anything while Rita analyzes him. If he gets up and tries to leave, he's got a feeling he'll pass out. So, all he does is stay where he is, sitting upright and sulking. Strange even crosses his arms over his chest in a slight pout.

"Is it so hard for you to believe that he's not as bad as he looks?" Strange complains, as he gives Rita a frown. Really, he should be a bit more empathetic towards her about this. After all, she did have to deal with Ignatius during Portland and nobody was really themselves then. But at the same time, he knows he's going to get nothing but grief and nothing but odd looks the moment he even dares to suggest Ignatius isn't as bad as he could be.

Rita firmly answers, without hesitation, "Yes. It is."

But despite her searching, she can't seem to actually find anything that would indicate a mind-influencing enchantment. She swipes to dispel the interface with a scoff. Rita could understand him saying he's not so bad if and only if he was compelled to feel that way by forces beyond his control. Otherwise, it's inconceivable.

"Fine. It looks like you're not being forced to say it. So tell me, how exactly is he not that bad?" She's watching him with a venomous glare. Strange might as well be standing in a minefield; no matter where he goes with this, she's probably going to explode.

Strange returns Rita's glare with a stern and steely one of his own. What does it matter what he says? It won't change her mind. It won't make her think any differently.

"I saw what the Rose Queen did to Steven," Strange explains, keeping his voice as level as he can. However, he can't hide the disgust in his voice as he talks about poor Steven's circumstances. "She turned his body to crystal, almost like the Blue Rose. His wings weren't there anymore: she had rooted him to the ground, keeping him from escaping or moving around too much. Though only his wings were rooted when I saw him, Steven told me that his hands and feet were rooted to the ground earlier."

Strange pauses a moment, partly to let the horror sink in, partly to take a breath. Despite how well he's doing, he did just revive a few hours ago and the tiredness occasionally hits him. "Ignatius didn't do anything like that to me," he explains, a bit quieter. "Nightshade tortured me, the Rose Queen tortured Steven, the Prince tortured half the damn carnival...but Ignatius didn't do anything like that. He even gave me warning before he hurt me."

And despite all that, despite the fact that Ignatius seemed to be one of the most decent fae that Strange had ever met, he's stuck who knows where, fresh off a round of torture and magical enthrallment.

The horror does sink in, but it only fuels Rita's anger. She had some notion of the sort of cruelty Steven was subjected to, and hearing it confirmed makes her blood boil. This is exactly why she hates the Summer Court. How can he say all of this in one breath, and defend one of them in the next!?

"He gave you warning," she spits, incredulous. "You think that makes him so different? You think that makes up for kidnapping people, imprisoning them, enslaving them, using them as tools in a war that has nothing to do with them!?" Her voice grows louder and more shrill with each atrocity she lists. As far as she's concerned, Ignatius fits right in with monsters like the Rose Queen and Nightshade.

"You knew him for two days. I--" she stops, her breath catching in her throat. Was the Rita in Portland really the same person as her? Were those years spent as his changeling real? Rita can't come to an immediate answer to that, so she finishes by instead blurting out, "What the hell do you know!?"

"What the hell do you know?!" Strange yells back. The flames in his hair burn brighter and more of Strange's hair starts to set itself on fire as he glares at Rita. He knew this would happen. It's pointless trying to convince her to think any differently because she'd just see all the fae as the same.

"Yes, you know him in Portland, but since we were changed, who's to say he wasn't!" The Jonathan Strange of Portland was not the Jonathan Strange of the carnival. It's entirely possible that the Ignatius that Rita knew was different from this fae.

"Stop making excuses for him!" Rita cries, slamming a fist on the bed. She misses Strange's leg, at least, but she probably wouldn't be sorry if she did hit him.

"Would you accept that nonsense if this was about Nightshade? If someone told you she's not responsible for what she did to you, that she might have been someone else? Don't screw with me, you jackass!"

"Well what about me?" he snaps. Smoke's starting to rise from Strange's fist as he gets more and more irritated. "Am I responsible for what I did to Childermass? To Steven?"

He's stubbornly glaring at Rita, as if a petty staredown will help her see his point.

Two can play at this petty staredown nonsense. Rita meets his glare with a stubborn look of her own, and retorts, "What if you are?"

Because he very well might be. If what Lambert said was true, then in some way, they really did live their lives in Portland. It was a realization with heavy implications for Rita... but nowhere near what they would be for Strange.

"I'm not," Strange definitively answers. "I could have been that man but I am not him. Were I in possession of my own memories and had my own life, I wouldn't have done half the things I did. And I'm certain others would agree."

And yup, there goes his fist, setting itself on fire. Unfortunately, his hands are sitting on the sheet, which means that the sheet has set itself on fire. As much as he'd love to keep yelling at Rita, there's a sheet that's on fire which is now a bigger problem.

Strange still hasn't gotten the hang of the fun new 'spontaneously setting himself on fire when he's pissed' aspect of his new changes. He scrambles slightly to toss the sheet off of him before it can set even more things on fire.

It takes a moment for Rita to react - briefly, it seems, she considers letting the standoff continue while the bed or even the tent burns down. Once Strange starts moving, however, it snaps her attention to the sheet, which she helps wrench away from him, throwing it onto the floor of the tent.

Then, she holds a hand over the crumpled, burning sheet, coaxing the fire away from the fabric. The flames lift into the air, seemingly drawn towards her hand, which curls into a fist. The fire is summarily snuffed out, leaving only wisps of smoke in the air and crispy black marks on the ruined sheet.

With that done, she lets out a small sigh of relief.

Strange is having less luck getting the fire away from his hand. He's muttering spell after spell under his breath, trying to draw the fire away from himself. Any flames that he manages to lift up and extinguish are soon replaced with new flames. That anger at Rita is still there. But added to it are anger at this stupid thing happening with his hand and anger at himself for not figuring it out (despite the fact that Strange has had less than twelve hours alive with his fire powers).

So instead, he's just kind of sulking in an angry pout before Strange moves his still-on-fire hand in the vague direction of Rita. "Can you do anything about this?" he grumbles, almost under his breath.

"It doesn't hurt me," he quickly clarifies. "It's just..." And he trails off, before going into a sulk.

The interruption has taken some of the wind out of Rita's sails, and she looks back to Strange with a tired, but still decidedly unhappy look, seemingly trying to decide if she wants to get back to arguing again.

... It's probably not worth it. And it's hard to muster up that level of anger against someone who looks this pathetic.

"You're hopeless," Rita mutters after a delay, settling back into her chair and tugging it a little closer to the cot. She squints at his hand, then raises her gaze to him. "It's not a spell, so I'm not sure I can help, but... I'll try."

She holds out her hands, one above his burning hand, and one below. Using her fire magic, she tries to exert her will over the flames, effectively suffocating them. But the technique definitely won't work if he's still stressing out and generating more fire, so...

"Close your eyes," she tells him.

Strange matches Rita's look with a sulky yet slightly cornered one of his own. He has a feeling that she'll get back to arguing...and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn't. The fact that Rita's helping him with his currently on fire hand is appreciated, even if a part of Strange wishes that he had figured this all out on his own.

"I'm not hopeless," Strange grumbles, as he closes his eyes. "I just don't know how this works yet."

He has had a very weird past twelve hours, okay? Strange is still stressing out and fuming a bit, but closing his eyes means that the fire's slowly starting to sputter out a little, even before Rita starts suffocating some of his flames.

Rita frowns at his protest, but manages to keep herself from arguing, focusing instead on his hand. With how close she's bringing her own hands, she needs to pay attention if she doesn't want to get burned.

"Take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Believe it or not, Rita knows a thing or two about breathing exercises. Does she ever apply that knowledge when she's the one who needs to calm the hell down? Nope, pretty much never.

As she tries to snuff out the fire, she slowly brings her hands closer, trying to close them around his.

Strange still has his eyes closed as Rita moves her hands closer to his. He does the breathing exercise: in through his nose, out through his mouth. The fire on his hand continues to sputter out, but Rita's magic suffocates it and snuffs it out quicker than it normally would. The fire on his hair starts to recede as well, until it's tiny little pinpricks of flame.

He doesn't move, even if the end result is Rita grabbing his hand. Strange is focused entirely on his breathing and focused entirely on calming the fuck down.

As the fire finally recedes to the point that it extinguishes, Rita slowly clasps her hands around Strange's in a gesture that ought to be reassuring, both in the gentle touch of it, and in the knowledge that it's only possible because they've successfully stopped the fire.

She waits a few moments, then says, "You can look now."

It hasn't fully occurred to her that the result of this is Rita sitting and holding hands with the guy she was screaming at a minute ago.

As he feels Rita's hands around his, Strange looks a bit surprised. Oh. That's her hand. Maybe that breathing thing did help. Though how the hell Rita knew breathing exercises is beyond him. He opens up his eyes and looks down at his not-on-fire hand.

Strange doesn't make any effort to take his hand away from Rita's. Instead, without really thinking, he reaches over with his free hand to put it on top of Rita's. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you for rescuing me," he admits, before the yelling can start up again. "And thank you for being there when I hatched."

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