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]

[ 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. ]