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.

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Thank god, he at least stopped at that point, but that only brings up a completely different puzzle. It leaves Childermass slowly sitting up straighter and fully turning to stare at Strange for a moment. It is definitely the look of someone trying to wrap their mind around something really, really dumb.

Inevitably, he asks, "You spied up until that point and then never even wondered why I didn't leave before then myself?"

"You aren't always there when Lambert takes his clothes off," Strange responds, as if that's the most obvious thing in the world. There's plenty of times when he's been scrying and accidentally caught Lambert changing clothes or in the buff or one time actually in the shower (and that one made it so Strange didn't scry on Lambert for like a week straight).

"Besides, I've only actually seen the two of you in bed together once or twice. It's easy to write off something that seems implausible when you only encounter it rarely."

"Because I would share my bed with someone for no particular reason at all," Childermass says faintly, in disbelief. Strange, please, but then again, should he be surprised? It wasn't anything relating to the other magician himself, regardless of him feeling like it's totally his business now that he does know.

"It doesn't give you an excuse to attack Lambert over it, however, regardless of what you may think. He kept it to himself for my sake, not his own."

"I've figured that out now," Strange grumbles, looking over at Childermass. "He isn't one to keep secrets—it only makes sense you were holding him to it."

With hindsight, all of the moments which Strange thought were evidence of Lambert in love with him make more sense: it was Lambert offering excuses, offering the next best answer because he wanted to say the truth, but couldn't. Whereas with Childermass, getting anything close to an emotion from the other magician was like wringing water from a stone.

"But my point still stands. It was months, Childermass!"

No comment on that attacking part, though. Strange can try and defend himself about how he didn't know Lambert was that beaten up, but at the end of the day, he knows he fucked up.

"And? If you came here expecting me to apologize for that, you had better learn how to live with disappointment," Childermass replies because, honestly, he doesn't see it as something requiring one. It's his life. He doesn't need people prying into every part of it.

The fire at the end of Strange's hair starts to creep further up his curls, setting his head more on fire. Because yes, he did come here expecting some sort of an apology, or at least an acknowledgement from Childermass that he could have handled this secret boyfriends thing better. Because obviously all of this is Childermass and Lambert's fault.

"After you received the Starlight's letter, you told me that you would try to be more open about things. Did you actually mean that? Because all of this," said with a vague hand gesture in Childermass's direction, "tells me otherwise."

"I have been more open," Childermass finally snaps. He shoves up from where he's sitting, getting to his feet, though he won't stomp over to Strange or shove him or anything like that. The urge to do so is there but he'll resist it, for now.

"But not about that. You weren't owed that, it's too personal. Worse, if anyone else in England should find out, you know exactly what will happen. It's bad enough that he wants to return to England with me. He'll be miserable there, which you also know."

"I do," Strange nods. After all, he tried to convince Lambert to rethink his choice. And he also knows how most of England would look on the two men's relationship.

"If you didn't tell me about the two of you because of that, then you know me less than I thought. I wouldn't say anything to endanger your happiness."

Besides, Strange bitterly thinks to himself, he's got no idea just how much time he'd be able to spend in England in the first place.

"Not even Mr. Norrell?"

Childermass cuts straight to the real worry, this time actually taking the few steps to close the space between them.

"Will you really say nothing to him? Will you not hint at it in any of your writings or discussions or arguments? Even if, if somehow, after all of this, Lambert does end up in England and you two make it home? Because it may very well be true that I know you less than you thought but I do know him incredibly well."

Surprising no one, Strange didn't even think of Gilbert Norrell as one of the reasons why Childermass felt it necessary to keep the thing a secret. Strange's face goes through a series of rapid-fire expressions: surprise as Childermass mentions Norrell, shame as he realizes damn, he didn't think about Norrell at all, and finally determination as he comes to his conclusion.

Strange stays where he is, letting Childermass close the gap, before he gives the other man his answer. "I can keep a secret, you know. If it means that much to you, then I will try to do so."

He can't guarantee that he'll succeed. Both Strange and Childermass know that Strange has the mental defenses of a wet paper towel. If something in faerie attacked them that way or they came across a spell with those effects, then he might accidentally mention it. But he can at least try.

There's plenty of things Childermass could say about that needing to more than just a try, but what would that accomplish? More arguing, no doubt, and so all he can do is give his head a shake, turning away to go back to the campfire.

He'll sit back down where he'd been before, heavily, and take the stick back up. Back to prodding at the fire for lack of anything better to do, although the tension in the air has finally prompted Baker to get up and walk over to investigate. Strange will find the dog sniffing up in his personal space all over again...

"That's the best to hope for, isn't it? It was getting more difficult to hide it, anyhow."

And there's a dog in his face. Strange tries to push Baker's nose away from him with one hand while scratching the dog on his neck scruff with the other. He likes this dog but considering the last time he dealt with Baker it ended up with his hair covered in dog slobber, Strange wants the animal a good six inches away from his head.

The tension is still in the air as Strange mulls over what to say next. He's slowly starting to accept the fact that Childermass isn't going to apologize to him which pisses him off a little bit.

"I still don't understand why you hid it in the first place."

Lucky for Strange, Baker will be content with leaning into the scratching fingers in his mane this time. He escapes a second run in with massive amounts of dog slobber, this time. Childermass, however, is infinitely less pleased with Strange than the dog is and that's honestly just the norm for this conversation.

"It's not obvious?" Childermass asks, twisting where he sits to look at Strange again and gesturing with a hand nowhere in particular, as if just to present some very obvious fact that doesn't actually exist in the air he waves towards. "It's... you know what it is!"

A lot of things that he doesn't particularly feel like putting to words right now, all of which don't seem to be a problem at all to the carnival at large. Certainly not to the fae, nor a number of places they've been to, even different versions of Earth itself, and certainly not anything he's held against anyone else here. What other people do aren't his business, but himself... It's a mindset solely from where they are from, which is why Childermass can't help but offer Strange a look of sheer disbelief.

"And yes, I do realize we aren't in England right now, but why in god's name do you think I wouldn't try to hide it?"

"Because we aren't in England right now in the first place!" Strange answers, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Childermass is talking to the person who outright wrote to Norrell asking about necromancy, made no secret of the fact that he wanted to summon a faerie servant, spent all of his time in Venice looking like an unwashed hobo, and once he went crazy, actually told people that he went crazy. Even when he was sane, Strange's grasp of 'following social conventions' was shaky at best, and it's only gotten worse as time went on.

Though he does understand a bit why Childermass might not want to have said it. Even though they weren't in England, they were still English magicians. The worries, prejudices, and thoughts of the time would always linger in the back of their minds.

"Since you can be open with these things here, I can't understand why you wouldn't," he points out, as he continues to scratch Baker's mane. "Better to have happiness while you can."

"While I am well aware you have no respect for it, some men do actually value some privacy in their lives," Childermass offers that in reply. It's true, incredibly true in his own case, a man that so many know so very little about. "While I am not one to take any stock in the opinions of others regarding me, I would rather not be made into a spectacle, either."

"Being part of a couple isn't making a spectacle of yourself," says the man who would undoubtedly make a spectacle of himself should Arabella show up. We've just got two opposite levels of privacy and forthrightness that will never even remotely approach a happy medium.

As such, Strange is still baffled by the fact that Childermass thought this was something to keep quiet in the first place.

"You're allowed to show you like things that aren't tobacco or your dog," Strange teases.

"Not usually," Childermass replies. He's kept what he likes and dislikes close to his chest, always. It's only with Baker that it's become more apparently he even has emotions beyond 'don't care' and he's still waiting for that to bite him in the ass one day.

Only this is far worse.

"I like tobacco and my dog and my horse. I like magic and my cards. Love, however, isn't the same as like, Mr. Strange."

"So you love him as well?" It's an honest question, as Strange looks over at Childermass with an inquisitive frown. Because he heard Lambert say that he loved Childermass. But Strange knows damn well that it's possible for one person to love someone and not be loved back.

Strange doesn't seem to care that he's putting Childermass on the spot like this. He also doesn't care that he's straight up staring down Childermass as he waits for an answer.

"I don't think I'd put up with him as much as I do if I didn't," Childermass says, which is about as close to a heartfelt confession as anyone can expect to get. Surely Strange can understand that. After all, the man's own wife sure has to put up with a ton of her husband's own bullshit.

Strange does indeed understand that. He's not blind to the amount of bullshit poor Arabella's had to put up with. He gets what Childermass is implying, even though he's not saying it.

"Lambert outright said it," Strange teases slightly, just to give Childermass grief for the purposes of giving him grief. "Still, I understand what you mean." This is Childermass, in his own weird standoffish stupid Childermass way, saying that yes he loves Lambert as well.

Strange pauses for a moment before, slightly awkwardly, continuing, "I know I don't need to say this, but be gentle with him. At least, be gentle with regards to the two of you." Lambert's said that witchers don't have emotions enough that whether now or in the past, he might have actually believed it...even though both Strange and Childermass know it's definitely not the case.

Plus, there's that whole Lambert confessing to Strange that Childermass is pretty much his first love thing.

"Yes, well, our Nightrider is far more emotional than some other people," is what Childermass has to say to that, which is to say that Lambert is a massive sap. He does have to give Strange a bit of a sideways look at what else he has to say, though. Be gentle? Really?

"And gentle doesn't typically figure into it..." Even if that's hardly true, although he does suspect Strange means emotionally gentle. "Not that you stand much to suggest anything of the like. It sounds as if you've traded Lambert in for a High Fae as a friend."

Well that lovely moment lasted all of fifteen seconds. Strange goes from mildly hopeful that this conversation can finish without any more yelling to utterly annoyed that nope, this conversation is going to have more yelling.

"It's not my fault Lambert's an ass," Strange grumbles, as he looks away from Childermass. Because their dumb fight was a good 2/3 Lambert's fault and that's the story Strange is sticking with. "Are you even interested in my opinion on the matter or do you just want to scold me for my terrible choices?"

"You're both an ass."

No one else in this entire carnival can even disagree with Childermass on that, just try and find someone. That said, Childermass also isn't so single-minded about this disaster that he won't give Strange his chance. He sits up straighter and looks expectantly at the other magician.

"I would like to hear it, actually," he says. Without the entire carnival trying to argue over a radio channel, it might be easier. "Because I am well aware of what the court fae do to those they take and I've yet to meet one willing to defend their master."

Strange is still a bit worried that this is all going to explode on him, but if Childermass wants to listen, then Strange will talk.

"After we made the bargain, he turned me to ash and reformed me in the Rose Queen's gardens. And then for ten or so minutes, we talked. He explained to me why the Summer Court was looking for the Ringmaster in the first place—something which, if I'm remembering correctly what everyone told me, the Ringmaster only confirmed after the Courts told everybody that."

What with being brainwashed and dying and then getting into so many dumb fights, Strange hasn't had enough time to be as angry about that as he should. At least Ignatius was open enough with him to tell Strange one of the reasons why the carnival was pursuing the Ringmaster. If the courts hadn't shown up, she might not have ever told them.

"Yes, he enthralled me. And yes, there were aspects of my stay with him that I'd rather not relive. But I don't think he did them out of some sadistic pleasure." He's trying to keep his tone as deliberately neutral as possible, but a little bit of disbelief slips through anyway. Considering that the vast majority of the fae they've encountered seem to be assholes for the sake of being assholes, the fact that Ignatius was even slightly decent left a huge impression on Strange.

"That she killed the Winter Queen? Yes, that is common knowledge by now," Childermass says and he could add a few points, but that isn't what they're focusing on right now or, at least, it isn't what he's focusing on. Ignatius isn't sadistic. So that he isn't as awful as Nightshade makes him somehow better?

He doesn't scoff, so there's that.

"I see." There's a pause, ever so slight, before he adds, "Did you know the Count rescued the three sisters? The ones from Portland. Swept them away from their terrible lives. At least, that is how they would tell it."

His three sisters, technically, but it grates on him to claim even that much.

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