IC CONTACT for lostcarnival

[whattaprick]

✆CHANNEL FREQUENCY: 843.77425 (personal);
DESCRIPTION: Half the time he forgets this thing even exists, or how to turn it on and off.

✉MAIL BOX LOCATION: Next to trailer steps.
DESCRIPTION: The concept of a mailbox is rather foreign to Lambert, who's not exactly what you'd call big on personal correspondence. But there's a wooden crate you can probably drop shit into ???

BUG LAMBERT TO MAKE YOU SHIT: Given time and the right ingredients (which he'll usually ask people to provide) he can make potions (with potential side effects), oils, and bombs. You can bother him more about that in person.

Comments

[kingsroads]

I wouldn't want to be a librarian anyway. That's too much like Norrell for my taste.

[ Though, this is odd. The way that Lambert's breath catches is certainly audible, so Strange can't help but ask, ]

Were you about to say something?

[whattaprick]

I'm fine. Just ... thinking.

[ Lambert gives up entirely on trying to listen to Celandine and Childermass's conversation, if you can call it that, at this point. He'll just remember it all when he dismisses her, anyway, which is starting to look more and more like a viable option if Childermass keeps petting his damn soul the way he is.

But questions are probably better. Keep Strange talking for as long as he can, and any weird suspicious pauses aren't going to be as noticeable! ]

Have you been worrying about this the whole time?

[kingsroads]

I've been worrying about everything this whole time, [ Strange remarks, with a siiiiigh. Granted, that's a bit of an over-statement, but there's definitely been a lot on his mind.

And, entirely unaware that Childermass is listening, Strange continues. ]

I know this question might come out of nowhere, but bear with me. The Ringmaster said that who we were in Portland were a reflection of what we could be. How much stock do you put in that?

[ Because Strange is waaaay too aware of that slip of the tongue and how he ordered Childermass about. ]

[whattaprick]

I-- [ Why Strange had to ask a question that's actually complicated while his soul is being a shithead, is what Lambert wants to know. It's not like Strange cares about his opinion on this! This is obviously a rhetorical question meant as a lead-in to Strange spewing on about his own theories, and anyway Lambert thought they'd collectively agreed Portland was best buried under four bottles of alcohol and best never spoken of again. ]

I don't know. [ His grimace is audible. Not so long ago, he would have flatly denied it was anything but a cheap trick of the universe, but some things from Portland have proven harder to shake than others. ]

What does that have to do with anything??

[kingsroads]

Childermass and I had an argument. And in the middle of that argument, I said something closer to what that version of me would say. Add in all of Sans's nonsense about how I think lesser of people....

[ There's an awkward pause here as Strange tries to find the best way to describe what he's thinking, entirely oblivious to the fact that Lambert's soul is being a massive jerk (and Childermass, by proxy, is also being a massive jerk). ]

I don't want to be that man. But there are moments when we aren't too different. And I've no idea if it's a lingering effect of that spell or if I was always like this.

[ hey friendo, help me grapple with the fact that I might be an utter asshole??? ]

[whattaprick]

[ Thankfully, a brief break in the daemon-induced distraction means that Lambert can actually think about what Strange is saying. A fight with Childermass? Well, that's no surprise. They're two very different people, after all, for all else they have in common. Celandine wasn't only being cheeky when she teased Childermass about being surprised they shared the same sentiment. ]

You're asking me if I think you were born a prick or if Portland made you one?

[ Seriously, Strange? This is the existential crisis you bring to his door? Yet despite all that, he can't sound too pissy, if only because it's really hard to be annoyed when you still have the lingering aftershocks of the sheer, unbridled joy that comes with someone you trust laying their hand on your soul. ]

I don't know who you were before the Carnival, Strange. Maybe you were always a jerk so far up your own highborn ass you never noticed it. But ... [ He wrinkles his nose, exasperated. He is not good at this shit, but he also has no idea how long he has before those two interrupt him, so gets it out in a rush: ]

Even if you were, if you don't like that, then change. It can't be any harder than changing the course of a river, can it? [ Except the geography of the peninsula is ever more malleable than Strange's ego, and yeah, he read the books you gave him you dummy. Is he supposed to incorporate changing topography into nightrunner maneuvers now? ]

[kingsroads]

[ This is one of the existential crises brought to Lambert's door. The others, which include 'oh my god why do I keep having this fake wife problem' and 'so who has two thumbs and just realized he's way more powerful/lucky than he thought, this guy' will be dealt with later.

Although, huh. Lambert actually read the books. Strange pauses before continuing, ]

The terrible thing is, changing the river was easy. Once I understood the magic and made the arrangement, it was all too happy to shift it's course. [ pause. ] Though I don't think I ever put it back.

[ He did not. There's probably a footnote saying that he didn't. But that's not the point. ]

[whattaprick]

[ There was definitely a footnote saying he didn't put it back. ]

First of all, saying things like that? That is why people think you're a dick. [ Lambert rolls his eyes, leaning his elbows against the edge of the pool while he keeps on quietly talking to Strange. ]

Doesn't sound much like you understand yourself. Maybe that's what you need to work on.

[kingsroads]

Of course I understand myself, [ Strange scoffs. ] I am a magician. I am the king's magician, the Ringmaster's magician, and most important of all, Arabella's magician. What more is there to it?

[ aaaaand there's problem #1. ]

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert wrinkles his nose at the radio. If Strange thinks he has an answer to that... ]

Are you sure that's it? Where does 'Jonathan Strange the mopey drunk,' 'Jonathan Strange the man who'll put anything in his mouth,' 'Jonathan Strange who actually thought giving up cards was going to get a girl to marry him' fit in?

[kingsroads]

It's 'Jonathan Strange the man who'll put anything in his mouth except for pineapple.' [ he briefly adds to the shitpost. ]

Still, I suppose that's better than 'Lambert who is allergic to taking things seriously,' 'Lambert who whines about the cold,' or 'Lambert who has a rat for a soul.' I imagine mine fit in just as awkwardly as yours do, witcher.

[ turnabout is fair play, asshole. Besides, maybe if he needles Lambert long enough then he'll somehow come up with a strategy to understand himself in the first place. Is there a spell for that? There should be a spell for that. ]

[whattaprick]

[ Note to self: the next time Strange annoys him, definitely terrorize the shit out of him with pineapple. Should be worth a good laugh. For Strange, all that's going to earn him is a snicker. Lambert might have been touchy about Celandine being something so small and obviously non-combative, but now he can't imagine her any other way. ]

Point is, you're more than just a magician. If you weren't, I wouldn't be hanging out with you at all.

[ However, right now? Lambert's been in the water long enough that his hands are wrinkling and he's starting to feel lightheaded, though that's more due to the lack of sleep than anything else. He doesn't quite manage to stifle a yawn, though it is pretty difficult to call him 'relaxed' right now. ]

We done here? 'Cause it sounds like the great magician Jonathan Strange doesn't need my help figuring things out.

[kingsroads]

[ Note to self: steal all of Lambert's stuff should he try anything with regard to pineapples. Friends don't take advantage of friends dumb phobias, okay? (Except for the fact that if they're Lambert, they kind of do). ]

I suppose we are done. [ Strange can't help but admit. He's in a better mood, he's gotten some ranting off his chest, he's got...well, he still doesn't have a battle plan besides "spy on Childermass and catch him off guard to apologize" and "continue to glare in Sans's general direction" but it's a bit of a battle plan. ]

I should probably get some sleep.

[ who has two thumbs and hasn't even gone to sleep yet, THIS GUUUUY. ]

And thank you, by the way.

[whattaprick]

And food. And a shower.

[ Because the odds are astronomical that Strange has had neither of those things, either. When Strange thanks him, though, he just huffs a laugh. ]

What for?

[kingsroads]

Talking with me. Being there. [ Strange laughs, a short little strained laugh. ] Listening to a mad magician ramble on about his mistakes in the first place.

[ He's still worried that he's too much like his Portland self. And he still has no idea how to change that or 'understand himself' in the first place. But it's at least a start. ]

[whattaprick]

Don't forget 'giving great advice' and 'really helping,' too.

[ Lambert tacks onto that, cheekily, though his tone does grow quieter after a moment. Were Celandine here, she'd have something appropriately sappy to interject, but she's currently across the water and engaged in character assassination besides.

Oh, fuck it. It's not like he has any dignity to lose, nothing else can make this morning more of a missed opportunity than it already is. He rolls his eyes. ]

What else are friends for, right? [ Lambert's not the type of person to ramble on about his problems in the first place, but if he ever was, he knows Strange would be there to return the favor. With alcohol and even more dubious suggestions on how to fix things, but he'd try, and that's more than most people Lambert knows. ]

Now go the fuck to sleep.

[kingsroads]

[ Strange can't help but laugh at that: it's bright, cheerful, obnoxious and loud enough that Childermass probably hears it even from where he's sitting. ]

What are friends for indeed. But yes, I'll get some rest. You're worse than my mother.

[ he'll even let Lambert get the last word in if he wants before shutting the radio off entirely and then just crashing on his bed. ]