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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There's a pause, while Strange doesn't really make eye contact with Syrlya. This is awkward and he hates it! A moment later, almost under his breath, Strange admits,

"Absolutely."

One of the main things he took away from being enthralled was that Ignatius wasn't that bad. Someone else could have survived it. And that just makes him feel all the worse that he's the idiot who jumped in there to try and protect people, thinking it'd be worse than it was.

"So use that regret to drive you to do better the next time. Better yourself." There's no judgement when he says it. He knows he's made his share of mistakes, made more. It's a balance between not letting them hold him back and not forgetting him, and he's found making them productive is better than dwelling.

Syrlya's already told Strange where he thinks he went wrong. Maybe he'll take it to heart (maybe he'l jusy be convinced to let someone else suffer instead).

Strange pauses and frowns at Syrlya, before taking one more book off his dream bookshelf of wants. This one is titled 'To Prove Myself to Those Who Doubt Me.' He can't really hold any more books and, thanks to Dream Logic, knows that he won't be able to take any more after this.

Do better next time? Of course he'll do better next time. Next time, he'll be even more amazing than before.

"I think this is it," Strange responds, as he looks back down at the titles: 'To Be With Arabella', 'A Changed Contract Between Ignatius and Myself', 'Using Magic More Effectively', and 'To Prove Myself to Those Who Doubt Me.' He's not entirely certain if they're the right books for him to take, but they feel right in the moment. He pauses before looking back up at Syrlya, like Strange is trying to come up with and find the words to best describe what he wants to say.

"I am the greatest magician of the age. There's not much I can do to better myself. But there are things I could do differently." He'll do that instead.

"Oh for--" Syrlya swats at Strange's head in frustration. So much for any hope Strange was going to use this as an opportunity for self-reflection. He's not sure how much of this Strange is even going to retain when he's dreaming, so it's probably not worth arguing. "You never learn, do you! Would it kill you to be humbled?!"

And then Strange gets whacked in the head. And almost instantly starts to whine to Syrlya about it.

"I've learned plenty! It's not my fault that the things I've learned don't fit whatever mold you want them to fit."

"I am not looking for you to fit any mold, I was only hoping you finally saw past your own arrogance. Everything that does not suit you might as well be air!" He waves his hand vaguely in said air to emphasize the point.

And then he pinches the bridge of his nose, furrowing his brow. "What are you even the greatest magician for?"

There is literally a prophecy that spends half of it's time dragging Strange for being an arrogant jerk who causes all of his own problems. Syrlya is fighting a bit of a losing battle here.

But given the opportunity to talk about himself, he will straight up take it. "I brought magic back to England. No longer was it limited to a handful of magicians. Now, anyone who wants to learn can do so." Despite the fact that bringing magic to everyone has 'bad idea' written all over it, Strange can't help but seem pleased with himself.

"Aside from that, there's the various feats I accomplished on the peninsula, scores of magic I did back in England, and the fact that I helped murder a faerie to free those trapped in his realm—not a True Fae, of course, but one of the ones from my world." There's a pause, before Strange admits, "He was remarkably weak compared to the Ringmaster and the others. But I believe that still counts!"

Who could have seen that coming? Syrlya's expression remains flatly unimpressed. Really, just like air.

"I am not asking about your magical feats Strange, I am asking about your motivation. Is this really as far as you can go? Is this the best that you can be?"

Syrlya doesn't doubt for a second Strange is an incredible mage. Syrlya recognizes that, but coming from a world that's been seeped in magic since its inception, where change has been forced upon all of them by much greater powers... there's something disappointing in Strange inhibiting his own capabilities by refusing to grow.

"My motivation is to take care of all this nonsense and go home!" said with a vague nod towards the books he's holding. That's what matters the most for Strange: finding a way to get back to Arabella. Except wait...he is home. Isn't he? This is London. Arabella is here. How can he want to go home when he already is home?

The penny drops and Strange figures it out. His expression goes from confused to annoyed.

"Damn. This is all a dream, isn't it."

Syrlya puts his hands on his hips. "Yes, Strange. You are unfortunately still with the carnival, and I am not human."

Can he will himself to look normal again in Strange's dream? He's definitely going to try that.

Syrlya is able to make himself look normal. And, as Strange sets the books down on a nearby table, Strange's appearance changes a bit as well. He still looks human, without carnival changes, but his hair gets more gray in it and his face gets a little more lined.

"My motivation is for her," Strange explains again, as he reaches over to pick up the Arabella book. "Everything I've ever done, any spell I've ever cast, all the great works of magic I've ever worked were all for Arabella. It is hardly my fault that fate seems to think differently. And if I am going to better myself, or whatever nonsense you think I should do, it will be for Arabella's sake—not because you think it should happen."

That's very romantic, and Syrlya just ends up staring dumbly at it. Not out of an inability to comprehend, but he looks at Strange with muted surprise like it wasn't the response he expected.

Then Strange calls it nonsense and his expression dulls. It's an equal guess whether they're coming at different perspectives or different topics entirely, but it is an answer that suits what Syrlya asked. He shifts his arms to fold them loosely, raising a brow inquisitively at Strange. "Then why don't you step down from the nightrunners and take a position in the carnival that requires less personal endangerment? Something easier to assure your safety so that you can return to her."

Because pride. That's pretty much why. Because despite what Lambert might say, there's still this part of Strange that felt like Lambert wanted him off of the team simply because he wasn't good enough. Strange is still a bit too stubborn and reluctant to actually admit that it's pride. Thankfully, he has a different explanation to use.

"I'm certain the Ringmaster knows that things will only get worse from here on out. I'm a soldier as well as a magician. We're already the weaker party in this fight—the carnival should use every resource it has." And at least for Strange, he's counting himself as a resource.

Syrlya's been in enough wars to know how to tell a fine line between soldiers as resources and people. Thus, he doesn't react much to that, because it's just as much as how one might compartmentalize all of them. A good leader just doesn't forget the living aspect that they're endangering when delegating.

"And if it comes to the worst, I am sure everyone will be required to fight. Do you want to protect the people here?"

It's not too different of a question he asked Jasper, or Rita. They are the frontline, and most educated defense--and they won't have much of a job if they've nobody to fight for. If Arabella means that much to him, where does his priority lay?

"Of course I do," Strange responds, as if it's obvious. Whether it's the dream or the fact that he's just naturally open about these sort of things, Strange continues without any embarrassment.

"There are plenty of people in the carnival I care about. Lambert, Childermass, Rita, 9S, Yuya...and you, of course. If I can protect any of them, I will do so."

In Strange's mind, it's an obvious question with an obvious answer.

Syrlya pauses, and then his expression twists in something caught between wry and touched.

"Then better yourself for that, oh Greatest Magician," he points to Strange as he says it, circling his finger a little. "I meant what I told you before, that there are better ways than martyring yourself. If you are serious, then let us work on ways to do so. You are a powerful and clever mage, and it is a shame to see you restrict yourself simply because you do not believe you have to be better."

He pulls his hand back, his gaze losing focus on Strange for a second before he offers, finally, a genuine smile. "None of us ever have to be better, but that does not mean we shouldn't try."

It's a combination of the flattery and the smile that gets Strange to actually pay attention to what Syrlya's saying. Better himself...he knows that Sylrya is talking about more than just magic, more than learning new spells and new tricks. But perhaps if he focuses on bettering his magic, on making new strategies and figuring out new plans, then the rest of him might become better as well.

After all, so much of Strange is magic, and the parts of his identity that don't revolve around Arabella revolve around being a magician.

"Perhaps I shall at least try," Strange responds, with a wry little smile of his own. "After all, what's the worst that happens? I fail? I've already got a curse on my head and two fae with a claim on my soul, it can't get any worse than this!"

"Don't say that, it can always get worse," he counters, quickly, with severity that's only barely contained under the previous jesting.

He moves on from it immediately, though. "Provided either of us remembers enough of this conversation when we awake, why don't we practice before Eden? Identify some weak points and reconsider our strategy together. We've enough failures under our belt now that we have to be able to change something."

That sounds like a good idea. Strange nods, as he looks over at Syrlya. "We can't afford any failures to begin with. Not with the Mirror."

They only had so many chances to get the Silver Mirror. If they didn't get it now...then what? Then the likelihood that they could get it again was slim to none. Strange knows that though he wishes it were different, it's basically now or never for the carnival.

"Although, I have a hard time fully remembering my dreams," Strange lightly teases. "I'm afraid we'll just have to see if it happens this time or not."

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⇨ CAMPING GROUNDS

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