⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

[ringleaders]

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 119 - Day 126
Where: The Summerlands
What: Ignatius and Gild portal everyone to the Summerlands, with hopes of appealing to the Summer Maiden for help. Meanwhile, the carnival gets the chance to relax in luxury as only tentatively welcome guests. Here is the location write up from the last time the carnival visited. Since then, of course, some things have changed.
Warnings: Nothing in particular.

THE SUN RISES↴ After taking the time to rest, Ignatius and Gild will be able to pool together their energy to portal the carnival (and the airship) to the Summerlands. Those still in Polaris will be left to their own devices for the moment as Gild intends to ask for the Summerlands aid in relocating them, hopefully as soon as possible. With the effort the carnival put into sorting things out in there, however, they should be fine on their own for a little while, at least. They will arrive in the flowery fields at the base of the mountains, and soon the Summer Fae will notice their presence. Since the last time they visited, however, the atmosphere has changed. ► YOUR ARRIVAL: As the Summer Fae discover the group's arrival, it will quickly become apparent that there is a tension present that wasn't there any of the other times the carnival has visited. The Summer Maiden comes to greet the group personally, with an entourage of armed Summer Fae. They are not at all aggressive unless provoked, but there is clearly a wariness that is new. They seem uncertain about Ignatius being here, and while Gild will be able to do a lot of the talking and smooth things over, the Summer Maiden will deflect having a serious conversation about affairs until the carnival has taken time to 'rest.' It's more likely that the Maiden needs a moment to think over this new information before dealing with it. ► SUMMER CITY: After the Summer Fae become aware of everyone's presence, and the initial uncertainties are accommodated, they will invite you into their city. There are stairs that lead up the sides of the mountains, but thankfully there are also magical means of getting up there as well. The Summer Fae will be willing to help workers with the injured as needed, offering herbal remedies and healing magic to those that want it. You'll also be invited to join them for dinner, but it feels like more of a formality, and no one is obligated to take them up on it. ► SUMMER PEOPLE: The fae here will do their best to entertain these new visitors - but it doesn't seem that much happens here besides day after day of peaceful meditation and relaxation. It is not uncommon to see Summer Fae spent days doing exactly the same thing, whether that be enjoying the weather, listening to music, or dancing - the day and night periods may be similar to earth, but when you don't need rest it can all blur together just the same. Some of the fae work on feats of agriculture or craftsmanship, and while there is no particularly need to work in this place, they take pride in the fact that they do. ► FAMILIAR FACES: One very different thing about the Summerlands this go around is that there appears to be a small settlement built at the base of the mountains, filled entirely with the former residents of the Manor. Alyss and Reyna will explain that they set up a place to live down there with the Summer Fae's help, and that the fae seems to be trying to remain hands off except when they are needed. The Manor folk overall seem to be doing well, though there is some tension regarding their place in the Summerlands - they are clearly seen as refugees, and while the Summer Fae do their best to help them, the arrival of the carnival and the request for even more help with refugee aid seems to be making things awkward. ► OF THINGS TO COME: The Summer Maiden will remain distant for the first few days, but according to Gild and based on personal observation, it will seem that the news that the Ringmaster has been taken and the idea that even more desperate mortals are requesting to come here are putting her at significant ill ease. She's not rude or dismissive, but she seems reluctant to address the situation head on, though she has said that she will hold a meeting with the carnival later in the week to discuss everything in more detail. None of them seem particularly angry or resentful, but they seem to regard the carnival as an ill portent of things to come.

Comments

[atouts]

"I doubt these wings would keep you warm, Lambert," Childermass says, lowering his hand again and giving a small shake of his head. The opposite, no doubt. To the rest, he supposes it pointless to lie as his gaze flickers back towards what's left of the picnic.

"And it does... but I do know better. I should be able to repurpose the energy for magic if I ever overextend myself. I'll try not to do that often, though it may be needed if we do end up entering the Wyldlands."

[whattaprick]

“Yeah.” Lambert’s expression sobers briefly, considering something, then gently squeezes Childermass’s hand again, though the suggestion is infinitely less tender than that caress.

“Do you want to try pulling energy from me?”

[atouts]

Yeah, that has Childermass pulling his hand away in surprise. He leans away, as if suddenly worried just sitting next to Lambert might cause such a thing to happen.

"What? Of course not! Why would I ever do that?"

[whattaprick]

And that has Lambert leaning in to grab it, refusing to let go again.

“Because it could come to that, couldn’t it? The difference between living and dying. Don’t you want to know how to do that now rather than when we don’t have a choice? When you don’t know how to control it enough not to kill me?”

[atouts]

"If it comes to that, I'll just use it on whatever damn faerie is attacking us," Childermass snaps back in reply, still trying to pull his hand from Lambert's grasp. He doesn't exactly have witcher strength, though, now does he?

[whattaprick]

Childermass doesn’t, and Lambert forgets himself for a moment, tightens his grip almost to the point of pain. He’s even stronger than a witcher now, something he hasn’t really explored except in cautious spars with Syrlya, trying to find a grasp on the changes wrought.

“John,” he says lowly and urgently, leaning in so he’s right in Childermass’s face, lips half-parted like he’d like to say something ... and then he realizes he’s holding on too hard, and he lets go, face red for reasons other than pleasure.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking away, fangs worrying at his lower lip. “Fine. Forget it.”

[atouts]

Childermass yanks his hand back as soon as Lambert lets go and cradle it in his other hand. There's pain, sure, but he can already feel it fading. At worst, there may be a bruise, which on the scale of injuries is nothing to the magician at this point. Still, he looks wary now. When did Lambert become that strong...?

"Why is it so important?" He should ask about the strength, he knows, but this is what he demands instead. "Why would you want me to practice on you and not something else?"

[whattaprick]

Lambert looks out over the sprawl of the Summerlands, and shrugs.

“You’ve never used it on something that can tell you what it feels like, have you?” he challenges. “And you’ve never used it on a fae. Do you know if it matters what you pull the energy from?”

[atouts]

"Seeing how it's the Void, I actually do know what it feels like," Childermass snaps, irritable now that he even has to think about it. He looks away, his grasp tightening around the hand he's still cradling against his chest. "The same as I've been feeling. Like nothing is ever going to get better."

[whattaprick]

"Yeah, you really don't need the Void to feel like that,” Lambert drawls.

He draws his legs up enough that he can rest his elbows on his knees, tail clumsily curling around himself with a rustle of ribbon and a quiet jangle of metal, fingers clenching and unclenching restlessly.

"Do you actually believe it?"

[atouts]

"It's difficult to describe it any further than that..." Because it is different. It's one thing to come to that conclusion on your own and struggle with it, another when it feels like some alien force trying to drown you in hopelessness. Childermass sighs and looks back again.

"No, I don't. I know it's lying to me. That doesn't change how it feels but I'll just have to deal with it." Though on the topic of 'dealing with it', his attention flickers down to the wrapped tail. "The same as we'll have to deal with that... and your horns. How long are you going to hide those from me?"

[whattaprick]

Lambert tenses, visibly, then forces a sharp laugh, mostly in disbelief.

“What, as if you actually want to see? Now that’s something hard to believe,” he shakes his head. He saw how Childermass looked at them in Polaris, when it was too hard, even with half his memories lost. They’re not even claims to something he can feel proud of doing. Just a pointless mutilation ... even if it’s given him a strength and durability he never would have possessed otherwise. He may take his own advice and find ways to use it, but that doesn’t mean he wants to look at it ... or see how anyone else reacts to them. Childermass least of all.

[atouts]

"You can't hide them forever," Childermass points out. It's just logical at this point. "And I'll never get used to them if you do. I know you're tired of sleeping apart, Lambert, but I'm not going to let you wear bells to my bed."

Or whatever other nonsense he keeps adding to the ribbons wrapped all around his tail and horns. Yes, they were harsh to look at back in Polaris. He knows they'll still be. Something has to change, though.

[whattaprick]

"You want them off so bad? Then take them off yourself," Lambert snaps back, challenging, burying the flash of hurt under prickly bravado.

"If you can stand to."

[atouts]

Childermass almost falters at that, almost backs down. He does hesitate. He can't help it. It only lasts a few seconds, however, before he lets go of the hand he's been clutching and holds it out towards Lambert. If he can't do this, then what hope is there?

"Fine. Give me your tail."

[whattaprick]

A few seconds are enough for a bitter sort of triumph to cross Lambert's face, certain he's called the magician's bluff, before Childermass comes out with his own challenge in turn. It's the witcher's turn to blanch, mouth twisting, but his own stubbornness won't make him back down now.

He's choosing to be exposed, to prove a point, that it isn't easy. Rich of Childermass to ask for it, when he sure as hell isn't trotting out what was done to him. At least he has the option to hide.

Rather than speak, because he doesn't trust his voice, he sweeps his tail away from around him and lets it drop heavily across Childermass's lap, all the inhuman weight of it, stiffer from the fabric wedged between the joints. It may be thinner than his dragon tail ever was, but it's certainly heavier.

[atouts]

Lambert doesn't have to share a bed with what's been done to him, so there's definitely a difference between a tail and wings that, for all he knows, only worked that one time they were tested by the technicians. Regardless, he sets his face into a somber expression as the tail lands across his lap and he reaches for the first knot of fabric.

He's steeling himself against seeing this again up close, sure, but he isn't going to back away this time. He'll work on untying piece by piece, slowly revealing the artificial tail hidden beneath with grim resolve.

[whattaprick]

Lambert will watch him for a while, jaw set, before he does eventually look away, exhaling. It’ll take Childermass a while to get through — some are easily unraveled, loose padding to fill in the empty space between knots of bone, but some parts tied tight and drawn even tighter by constant movement along his joints will need to be outright cut through.

Underneath, under the warmth of the Summerlands sun, the dark metal his bones have been reshaped with seems jarringly out of place. It’s warm to the touch — if Childermass dares to touch — and the gold circuitry on it remains as delicate as it always has, occasionally lighting up when some impulse travels along them, usually when Lambert’s tail twitches despite his effort to remain still.

[atouts]

The loose ones come apart with ease. Childermass pulls those away first before coming back for the knots drawn taut. Talons can hook into some, worry them apart enough to untie, but some... he just can't. When he finally reaches one that he wastes one minute on, then two, trying to get untied, it'll become apparent his hands are shaking with frustration, his head bowed over his work and face obscured by loose, dark hair.

He does touch the metal — alien but still warm, like the tail had been before — while trying to pry the cloth apart. It's impossible. Worse, just going through with his demand to unwrap the tail is emotionally draining for him in a different way. Lambert may find his attention drawn back by the sound of a choked sob.

Which is ludicrous. Childermass doesn't cry. He doesn't. He can't. He shouldn't be. Yet he is, trying to do so as silently as possible while struggling.

"I can't fix this," he finally says, voice torn with despair. "I don't know how. I should have done something sooner. I should... I shouldn't have told you to do more trials. I should have just kept my damn mouth shut."

[whattaprick]

It’s a trial in its own right just to be focused on like this, the attention unwanted. He’d gotten along fine with his tail wrapped, finally getting used to getting his head wrapped around finding a purpose again, but Childermass just had to push. Why now, and not after the meeting with the Summer Court? Why isn’t Lambert ever allowed to hide?

The half-hearted fuming only lasts as long as it takes him to hear that first sob, smell salt in the air. He turns his head to Childermass then, ears wilting with the sound of the magician’s voice and self-recrimination.

“Come on,” he says, reaching back with one hand to place it on the magician’s knee. “That’s enough. What kind of fortune-teller spends all his time looking at the past?”

[atouts]

"Not a very good one," he mutters, giving up on the knot he's been failing at pulling apart for some time now. He pauses, just looking bleakly down at the tale draped across his lap even as Lambert tries to comfort him.

Then, he picks up one of the ribbons he untied before. He'll start putting it back in place, slowly, miserably.

"This was stupid... You don't even want me to look at this."

[whattaprick]

Lambert twists around so he can face Childermass, weight resting on one hip as he twitches his tail out of his lap and nudging his hand aside. Even partly freed of the ribbon, the difference is already clear, tail moving far more smoothly with the weight removed. One hand reaches up to cup the side of his face, the pad of his thumb brushing over the magician's damp cheek.

"Not if it's going to put that look on your face," he murmurs. The worry lines are back on his brow, starker than ever, and he sighs.

"... I was going to take it off for the Summer Court, anyway. Easier to show than tell."

[atouts]

"As if they'll care," Childermass sighs as well, raising his head back up to look at Lambert once he reaches out to touch his face. "Why would what Winter does to anyone less than another High Fae move them?"

But he doesn't particularly want to talk about faeries, even while in a land of them. He waves a hand after the tail now that it's been moved.

"And this. I don't want this to be what's keeping us apart anymore. If I can find a way to accept the Void, then surely I can accept what's changed about you."

[whattaprick]

“Maybe it’ll be a nice preview of what could happen to them if they ever end up in a Winter fae’s hands,” Lambert shrugs. “Seeing as Ignatius isn’t a good example anymore.”

But he doesn’t want to talk about faeries either. After a moment of consideration, frowning as he mulls it over, Lambert volunteers a suggestion.

“Nothing says you have to accept it all at once. I mean, I’m the one attached to the damn things, and I have a hard time accepting it. Besides,” he hesitates, reluctant to voice the thought but wanting to be honest about it, “Even if you never accept them, even if you don’t want me like ... that because of it ... I’d understand. I don’t need to be in your bed to be with you.”

At least, that’s what he’s been trying to convince himself of the past few days. If this is all there is to have, then ... that’s what it’ll have to be.

[atouts]

Childermass just looks at Lambert, dead silent, when he suggests it's okay if there's a sheer absence of that... Followed, of course, by a restrained grin spreading across his face and, inevitably, a snort of laughter. Not an angry or upset laugh, just a real one.

"Lambert, please. We both know you can't go two hours without thinking about sex," he says. Probably not totally accurate but he's pretty sure he's close. "Besides, Baker isn't allowed up on beds. Who else am I going to get to be a personal heater?"