lostcarnival | ⇨ POLARIS 3.0

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⇨ POLARIS 3.0

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 115
Where: Polaris
What: On the morning of day 115, a couple hours before the technicians would come to pick up the test subjects, the escape plan will officially come into effect. If your character has been left out of the loop up till this point, feel free that someone hastily explains the plan during the initial phase! The meat of everything else will be played out via megathreads and any private toplevels people want to make.
Warnings: Probably violence.

PEER REVIEW↴

The plan starts with getting everyone out of their cells. Childermass is going to be using his Gilded Mark to enhance his shadow movement abilities, unabling him to teleport himself and other people out of containment. If your character has other ways of escaping they are free to pursue that, but on a base level, it can be assumed that everyone gets out thanks to Childermass. (Thanks Childermass!) Once everyone has been removed from their cells by some means or another, they will be forced to split into teams as swiftly as possible, as the moment people start breaking out, negative attention from the staff will start building. The area is poorly guarded at first, but as people become aware of the breakout, more will arrive.

Gild, speaking on behalf of her inside plant, will say that those that 1) want to get their stuff back, 2) want to find Ignatius, should get the assistance of their allied Deltas to access sector A5. From there, they will have to access Polaris's storage in A3, a neighbouring sector, and find access to C2, the station where Ignatius is being held. They should expect to be met with armed resistance, but with any luck allies will be there to assist them.

In general, characters will be most effective if they back one of these major objectives:

► TEAM LOOT: This team is trying to get back the items and pets that were confiscated when the group was brought into Polaris. Their objective, according to their allies on the inside, is to get to A5, and then make their way to A3. The important thing is being able to locate their stuff among a sea of other items, and to make it through security in order to reclaim it. Gild's plant has said that they will assist with this. After getting these items, Team Loot may wish to merge with Team Rescue.

► TEAM RESCUE: This team's primary focus is to get to A5 and then make their way to C2. If desired, they may wait for or join with Team Loot, or they may strike out ahead in order to take advantage of the element of surprise. The key factors are obtaining a way to access C2, as well as being prepared for armed conflict with the technicians guarding it, as well as possibly the Mother of Invention herself. Though, the ideal is that Gild will be distracting here at that time.

► TEAM DISTRACTION: This team can do their thing wherever they please, as their main intent is to sew general discord and distract the staff from the teams doing more important things. They should be prepared for armed resistance, but what tactics they pursue beyond that point are highly variable.

► TEAM FORTRESS: This team is attempting to set up a protective base of operations in the original sector in order to survive the conflict and protect their noncombatant comrades. How they accomplish this is also highly variable.

Other objectives may exist, of course, and can be made with their own separate top levels. Chunks of these megathreads will have to be played out in summary form, so when characters are simply trying to get from place to place and specifics aren't necessary, feel free to stick to that format. Assume that everyone is already out of their cells for the purpose of the megathreads.

Here is a shitty map of how the sectors connect, from a side view of the central Polaris hub.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"She's got an egg. Kill her, get one of you to open the pocket dimension, let her soul rest until she revives and hope that the damage doesn't transfer over." This is all Strange trying to justify his actions and trying to justify a decision made in the heat of battle (which didn't even happen, get off his case Lambert!). He's returned to not looking at Lambert as he continues talking, with a forced neutral expression on his face and a forced matter of fact tone in his voice.

"I can't see how you would have any problems with that. That's what you wanted me to do to you in the Hunt."

“Maybe,” Lambert sighs, running cloth along metal. “I’ve thought about if that’s an easier way to fix iron damage than waiting to heal it out. But I don’t know if that resurrection magic would fix a mind. It still brings people back with scars.”

Does brain damage count as scarring? He doesn’t know. Maybe it’s moot. Or maybe it’ll be more immediately relevant again than they can even imagine, so maybe they should know.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have a problem with it, but I do. Maybe because it is how I’d think, which is usually a bad idea.”

Strange can't help but laugh at that. It's a short, bitter laugh as he looks over at Lambert with an expression that's pure 'you've got to be kidding me.' A bad idea? Is this Lambert's dumb lack of self-esteem creeping up again? He's not going to put up with Lambert martyring himself when the answer's pretty obvious in Strange's mind.

"No, it's how I'd think. I'm the one who's plan in the Athenaeum revolved entirely around dying. It's better to die than to kill the ones you care about."

That glamour is still annoying the hell out of him so instantly after he says that, Strange starts muttering his spellbreaking incantation again.

Look, Strange, you don’t have a monopoly on dumb self-sacrifice and irrational worry about hurting the people you care about in this Carnival, okay?

More importantly though, Strange still won’t knock off the dispelling bullshit, so he’ll find the end of an invisible bony tail slapping him smartly on whichever body part is nearest.

“I told you to stop that.”

The bony tail hits him on his side. Strange winces, but gives Lambert a look like he's a goddamn idiot in return.

"You're hiding something. You can either tell me what it is, show me what it is, or I can break the magic and make you show me yourself."

“I’m not hiding anything you haven’t already seen,” Lambert answers. Surely Strange hasn’t forgotten their brawling (if you could call it that)? Then again, eying Lambert up and trying to kill him aren’t necessarily the same things. Given what a stubborn ass Strange can be, Lambert casts about desperately for a way to make him understand.

“I’ve had enough of people poking and looking at me without giving me a choice. Haven’t you?”

Considering that Strange spent most of their fight alternating between trying to kill Lambert while also at the same time trying to stop himself from killing Lambert, he's only got a vague recollection of how he changed. Is it his horns? Is he being self-conscious about those? That's stupid.

"You can't hide behind your illusions forever. And I'm giving you a choice. What will it be?"

Granted, Lambert wasn't expecting the choice to be 'am I going to wrangle out what you're so self-conscious about in the easy way or the hard way' but it's still technically a choice.

“What choice?” Lambert asks, raising his voice. “You’re not even listening! I want you to leave it alone! Or is this just another thing only the great magician Jonathan Strange, yet again, knows what’s best for?”

There’s something familiar about how this argument feels, less like a fight with a friend, more like talking with someone he doesn’t know, with an agenda and motives so totally divorced from his own. Something that stirs at the back of his mind as a half-formed thought, and makes its way past his lips before he can even think about taking it back.

“You’re acting like we’re back in Portland. Do you care, or do you just care about being right?”

Edited 2018-11-14 20:01 (UTC)

"I care about you!" Strange snarls, as he gets to his feet. He has a sneaky suspicion this conversation might be ending soon. And even if not? That Portland comment stings and hurts in a way that Strange doesn't want to acknowledge.

"You've never been self-conscious about anything before and yet here you are, hiding behind some illusion! How the hell can I help you if I don't even know what your problem is to begin with?"

Frustrated, Lambert rakes his hand through his hair, trying to keep his temper. Strange doesn’t make that easy. It’s too tempting to want to hit back as hard as fast as he can at all the spots he knows will hurt, dig that wound open deeper if it’ll stop Strange picking at his.

“You just said,” he says, “That you think it’s better to die than kill the people you care about. If you’re willing to die for someone, is it that much harder to listen to them?” It doesn’t work that easily, he knows that. Lambert is also firmly in the ‘I’d rather die than talk about feelings’ camp, thanks. But it feels a bit like they’re having two conversations: the one they’re having right now and the one they aren’t, the one that’s at the heart of why the fuck Strange thinks ripping an illusion off Lambert is an acceptable gesture of care.

“You never asked me if I needed help. How I wanted help. You just decided there was a problem because I’m doing something differently and you needed to fix it, right now.” Like sure, there definitely is a problem, this just isn’t how Lambert wants to deal with it.

“Is that how you want people to help you? Just ... decide there’s a problem and do what they want even when you say no?” Hopefully not, because that’s kind of absurd and if that’s how Lambert is supposed to treat Strange he has no goddamn clue. “You can’t tell me you don’t have things you want to work through on your own. Not after all we’ve seen.”

Edited 2018-11-14 21:02 (UTC)

Strange stands still, clenching his fists as his claws dig into his hands. It doesn't work that easily, especially considering that both parties involved are allergic to sitting down and talking things out. Why do that when you can get drunk or focus on a different problem that needs to be fixed instead?

"If I ask you what your problem is, will you even tell me?"

Because Strange is worried that the answer's going to be 'no.' Though with Lambert's last statement, he quickly adds in, "And what do you mean by 'not after all we've seen'?"

This is, Lambert thinks probably, his karmic punishment m for badgering Childermass about all his secrets all the time: being pestered by an even more persistent asshole.

“The problem, which I do not need you in any way, shape, or form to attempt to fix, is that I have just had my skeleton stripped out for a pile of metal and circuits and I don’t care to be reminded of it any time I look at myself! I absolutely don’t want to deal with anyone else reacting to it until we are off this fucking station, not floating over Winter territory or Wyld Lands where any fae could come along, and I have a fucking cigarette!”

With that brief explosion over, the Gamma’s voice cracking with strain, Lambert takes a breath and glares. Is Strange just being an obtuse moron?

“And I mean everything. The miracles, everywhere the Carnival’s been, everything that’s happened to us — are you really the same person you’ve always been? Aren’t there things that have made you want to change? And I don’t just mean getting stronger, or better. Just...” he trails off, and his shoulders slump, tired.

“I feel like I used to know you, but I don’t know what’s going on in your head anymore. Or if you want me to.” The price of a friendship at least mostly built on mutual bullshit, he supposes.

Edited 2018-11-14 22:09 (UTC)

"I don't want you to know because I should be able to take care of my problems myself!" Strange starts. "I should..." and he trails off. Because if there's one thing that's obvious from this conversation, it's that he really can't take care of his problems himself, not if Lambert's calling him out on this.

"I should be able to do things like protect Ignatius or stop the Rose Queen's curse from taking Childermass. But I can't. And I hate it." He doesn't want to meet Lambert's eyes as he talks, not if he insists on keeping up this glamour.

"And we both know I'm not the same person I've always been. The Jonathan Strange who first arrived at the carnival thought he was a soldier, but there's no way in hell you would have asked him to kill you if needed." There's a little bit of disgust in Strange's voice as he talks. He's a bit worried he's changed for the worse...but if he's good what he's doing, if he can help kill Technicians or a True Fae without hesitation, then it can't be that bad, right? Even if it's something that scares and worries him the more he thinks about it.

Edited 2018-11-14 22:22 (UTC)

That works out just fine for Lambert, who’ll at least listen to Strange talking and trying to lay out all his shit here.

“Strange, the only person who expects that of yourself is yourself. You do realize that, don’t you?” This has the same shades of a conversation he’s had with Childermass not so long ago — half of him, anyway — about fear and the terrifying loneliness of believing you’re the only one who’s experiencing it.

“You think you’re the only one who wants those things?” he tries, instead. “You’re not, and you’re not the only one with all the answers. Life ... life isn’t a prophecy. You don’t always have to do something alone.” Unless you’re Jonathan Strange and your life basically is, but anyway.

There's something inherently funny about Lambert saying that you don't always have to do something alone: Strange bites down on his lip to stop himself from laughing before he starts to explain.

"For the longest time, I did always have to do something alone. When Norrell and I worked together, we worked together wonderfully. Likewise, I could always depend on Arabella. But then I was away at war or I thought Arabella died or I became cursed and I had deal with whatever problems were thrown at me by myself."

Which is how you get great solutions like 'literally going bugfuck crazy'. Strange isn't treating this as a justification, more of an explanation.

Edited 2018-11-14 22:51 (UTC)

“And witchers are taught to work alone,” Lambert points out in return. “Sure, we don’t usually get caught up in problems like ‘getting cursed by a faerie you getting trapped in a life-draining pillar of darkness,’ but ... if you didn’t learn to patch yourself up, if you weren’t prepared enough for what you’re up against, you die. Alone, and pathetic. A lot of witchers have.”

Lambert exhales.

“But that was then. We—” he gesticulates around himself. “We’re all right here. And I know if we’re going to figure out something about all this we’re going to need each other. I need you. Even if it’s not always in the way you want me to. I ... I don’t know, that probably doesn’t make sense.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, nose scrunched childishly, only to wince as it brushes over his recent (Strange-inflicted) injuries. Uggggh, he hates talking so much.

It's Strange's turn to struggle with words. He's still not looking at Lambert as he pauses, bites down in his tongue, then continues.

"Do you need me? Or do you need my magic? Because if I'm being honest, a lot of your recent decisions have focused on the latter but not the former."

God, this probably makes no sense at all. But it's what he's been trying to tell Lambert for a lot of this conversation.

“I need my friend,” Lambert answers, emphasis heavy on the ‘friend.’ “But lately, he’s been a little busy with his other friend, and it feels like he only listens to what I say only when it fits in with something that can help them, or if it’s something that fit into what he wanted to do anyway. Considering he’s taken every chance he can to tell me I’m wrong about that friend or that he’s a better friend than I am instead of letting me form my own opinions, I’m kind of sick of hearing about them. So that’s kind of limited our conversation topics.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, groaning.

“I can’t do anything right. Either I’m not showing any trust in your or your abilities, or I’m someone who only cares about your magic when I do ask you to use it.” He exhales. “If I’m being honest, a lot of your recent decisions have focused on Ignatius, not the rest of us. And that’s fine, but ... I miss when it didn’t feel that way.”

Edited 2018-11-15 03:21 (UTC)

As Lambert talks, it clicks in Strange's mind. This is about Ignatius. All of this is about Ignatius. Lambert's...Lambert's jealous. He's jealous that Strange has spent time with someone else, jealous that Strange talks about someone else, focuses on someone else, wants to protect someone else, and that someone else isn't him.

Considering that Strange had a long conversation with Yuya that partly boiled down to 'I don't feel like I'm anyone's top priority in the carnival', to hear that Lambert is bitter about not being Strange's top priority anymore is absolutely fucking hilarious.

It's hilarious in a heartbreaking way, of course. But that doesn't stop Strange from letting out a little chuckle that soon devolves into a full-pitched, slightly hysterical laughter, the sort of laughter that's laughing to keep from crying. Quickly, he tries to push out some words so that Lambert doesn't get the wrong impression and end the conversation then and there.

"Is that why you wanted me to be a convenient sword to fall upon? Because you miss talking to me? Because at least if we're talking about your death, it's not about Ignatius? Of course I've focused on Ignatius, I needed to—" quick pause, catch his breath "—ever since he arrived here, I've needed to protect him." From Eden, from Polaris, from the court of public opinion, from all the things that can hurt and harm a depowered fae who got his ass kicked by a magical library and kidnapped by a ragtag band of misfits.

“Does he think that?” Lambert asks, looking up at Strange. He’s entirely oblivious to the magician’s train of thought, preoccupied by his own ruminations, which are mostly along the lines of ‘how did we get here yet again’ and how the Carnival seems like a great big circle of people trying to non-consensually protect each other like fucking morons. “Did you ever ask him if he wanted your protection? Or is that something you decided he needed, too?”

Because that’s funny, since he started out protecting the Carnival from him. The hysteria isn’t a good sign, but Lambert’s not sure what’s going on with that, so he’ll press on.

“That wasn’t about Ignatius. I asked you because I thought you’d understand what it felt like to want that,” he says. “To be more scared of ... of doing something you might regret later than you were of dying. It was selfish, and I should have known better. You apologized for asking the same thing before, and I should have remembered it felt like shit.” He snorts, quietly. “The rest of it ... if you asking you to do things is using you, then I’m sorry. I’ll stop asking.”

He honestly doesn’t know what to say besides that. He starts to gather up his swords and kit. He doesn’t have shadows or a mirror to fall through, unfortunately, so any exit will have to be a slow one. He’s not nearly drunk enough for this much emotional honesty in a conversation and he’s not sure how much of what he said is just passing through one ear and out the other. It’s been a stressful time. Maybe conversations like this should have waited until they were somewhere safer, when they were more well rested, but Lambert doesn’t know anything.

Edited 2018-11-15 05:12 (UTC)

As Lambert starts to gather his swords, Strange reaches out to grab his wrist and tries to prevent him from doing so. As far as Strange is concerned, they're not finished with this conversation just yet. He's trying to regain his composure, trying to push down some of that hysterical laughter, as he looks over directly at Lambert and tries to make eye contact for the first time in a while.

"I need my friend as well. But considering that my friend didn't trust me with something as simple as who he loves, I thought he didn't need me. And then when my friend didn't trust me enough to help protect the carnival and do the job I've been doing for a good portion of a year...I thought something like 'hell, he must not think I'm good enough any more. Well that's alright, I've got a different friend who does trust me and does think I'm good enough, I'll feel better if I focus on him instead.'"

He takes a few shallow breaths, trying to push past the hysteria and get all his words out before Lambert goes anywhere. "And then to go from you barely trusting me to keep people safe to you trusting me with your life...I had no idea what the hell you wanted from me." Strange pauses, before clarifies, "I still have no idea what the hell you want from me."

Lambert stares back at Strange, the Gamma’s face and simulated visor making it difficult to tell what all exactly is going on under there. He doesn’t try to pull away, though, evidently working though his own thoughts. There’s a lot of things he could say, like Are you seriously fucking telling me all your trust issues with me started from me not telling you who I was sleeping with to Honestly, looking at you right now I’m really not sure you could protect a paper bag, and gods help it if you tried, but he systematically pushes them down as not helpful, one at a time.

“Yeah, well ... me either,” is what he finally says after a long pause. “But I know it’s not this.”

So nothing very helpful there.

“And I don’t think it matters. Because what you want matters more. You said it yourself, right? Your plan’s always been the same.”

As long as he can, Strange just holds tight onto Lambert's wrist, as if doing so will keep Lambert from going away and actually force him to stay put and have this conversation.

A brief look of exasperation flashes across Strange's face at Lambert's entirely unhelpful remark. Strange knows what he wants from Lambert: he wants to be trusted, wants to be included, and wants his friend back. How the hell is it so hard for Lambert to decide what he wants from Strange?

"But what I want involves you! I'm not an idiot, I know Ignatius won't be around forever." He's got a Court to go back to. He's got a life and a cause to go back to, just as Strange and Childermass do. The fact that he stayed on after recovering his Heart in Shabon is intensely admirable and yet another reason why Strange just absolutely loves this guy, but now that he has his Heart, he's going to leave at some point. And Strange is certain about that because that's what he'd do if he was in Ignatius' place.

"But you're coming back to England with m—with Childermass. We're going to spend the rest of our lives together and I don't want to spend it like this!"

Probably because the answer is some variation on ‘can you stop acting kind of crazy and like we’re out to persecute you and reflect on your own actions for once instead of feeling sorry for yourself’ which would go over as well as asking a fae to swallow iron.

More importantly, though, there might be a slight problem with one of Strange’s assumptions right now.

“About that ... we might not,” Lambert admits, uncertainly. “Childermass doesn’t think he can go back to England.” And where Childermass goes, Lambert follows, as Strange has correctly caught himself to say.

Wait, what. This is news to Strange whose expression shifts from confused to annoyed to downright worried in all of a matter of moments.

"Is this about the curse? That's why I suggested the Rose Queen plan in the first place!" Strange grumbles. Sure it'd be nice if the Rose Queen managed to take out the Huntsman...but it'd be even nicer if the Huntsman managed to take her out, thereby possibly removing the curse.

"He's got to go back to England," Strange points out, as he removes his hand from Lambert's wrist. "An entirely new age of magic is beginning, he's got to be there to shape it!"

It's obvious that there's a whole host of reasons why Strange wants Childermass back in England that are more than just 'he's my friend and I'm going to miss him.'

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