whattaprick | IC CONTACT for lostcarnival

[ Even unseen, Lambert sounds dubious, over the sound of rustling cloth. ]

Even Sans doesn't know how to do that, and he's had a lot more time to practice. It might just be the way the spell's made.

[ And this is how Lambert ends up being able to transform with his jewelry and only his jewelry. ]

[ Strange bites back a nasty comment about how Lambert shouldn't be surprised that Sans doesn't know how to do it, the skeleton doesn't really seem to know much outside his magical specialty. As such, there's a brief awkward pause before he continues, ]

If it's made oddly, then change it. Copy it and add your revisions—that's what I do whenever I come across something that doesn't work properly.

[ the success rate is variable. ]

[ Lambert makes a small, amused noise at the back of his throat. ]

I can't. I'm not a real mage, Strange. [ He states it plain, matter of fact. ] I can learn a spell if it's given to me, but I can't change it. I can't even change witcher signs on my own, and I know those like the back of my hand. You think I'm gonna fuck with something that changes my shape?

[ The rustling of cloth stops, replaced by the crunch of snow underfoot as Lambert sends Pig walking away. And then, amused -- ]

Are you planning to face away all afternoon?

You're naked, [ Strange responds, with a little hmmph. Yeah, he's still turned away, not gonna look at Lambert's penis. ] I'll turn back around when you've actually changed form.

[ Though, there's an awkward pause before, ] And you could be a real mage if you want. The carnival's full of people who can help you develop your talent.

I know this might come as a shock to you, Strange, but not everyone dreams of flinging magic around. [ Rude, though, he was going to turn away for him so he's staring at his ass instead of his dick, but since he's going to be that way...

Even for a human like Strange, it's impossible to miss the shift in air pressure as Lambert ... changes. The smell of smoke and something almost strangely like coffee is carried to Strange on the wind, briefly, before it dissipates. ]

You can turn around now. [ There's a different quality to Lambert's voice somehow, raspier and with a strangely metallic ring. Also, it's coming from significantly higher than it normally does. ]

[ But why wouldn't everyone want to be flinging magic around? That's something Strange just doesn't get about Lambert. For all of his talk about how 'witchers weren't made like that', it's obvious in Strange's mind that Lambert could do so much more if he just put his mind to it. After all, witchers weren't made to turn into dragons either.

He can sense the magic set in as Lambert transforms as well. So, he's turning around right as Lambert says he can turn around. And...yep, that's a dragon. A hugeass dragon, as a matter of fact. Strange can't help but nod a little appreciatively. ]

Impressive. Can you cast your signs in that form or does the lack of fingers serve as a problem?

[ There's a difference between doing magic because it's useful and being a mage. Lambert would have expected Strange to understand that, considering. Magic is simply a means to an end for Lambert, not his life. Heh has no interest in it beyond knowing how to take it apart when he needs

Lambert lazily lifts a clawed forehand, wiggling the digits as the webbing that allows him to glide shifts and stretches with it. ]

Got fingers, but they're not flexible enough. [ And it's hard enough maintaining this form without getting distracted. ] Can do this, though.

[ He tilts his head back, letting a gout of flame -- far larger and more violent than what he can get out in humanoid form -- sear into the crisp winter air. ]

[ Alright, that's amazing. Strange can't help but let out a bark of laughter as he sees Lambert breathe fire. ]

It seems you're a proper dragon after all! [ he teases, wild grin on his face. ] Well go on, show off, keep showing me what you can do.

You ever doubted me? [ Lambert asks, feigning offense. It's a strange sight, the dragon talking -- there's no way that mouth is shaping those sounds, though it seems to as it moves.

He's been able to breathe fire as a human for a while now, of course, only it's never come up -- one more surprise to save for when he really needs it. Still, when Strange brings up other ways to show off ... he snorts, a warm blast of heat fogging the air in front of him, as he glances around. He's brought them to a raised area, since he was practicing this anyway, but knowing he'll have to clamber back up afterwards ...

Rather than answer in words, his muscles coil with tension and then he pushes himself up off the ground with a leathery flap of wings. Of course, it's not true flight, but it gets him high enough off the ground that he can tilt himself into the wind and glide away from Strange down the low hill, landing in a spray of snow a fair distance away. Shaking himself off, he starts clambering back to where he started, his tail leaving an almost serpentine trail behind him as it sweeps back and forth over his own tracks. ]

[ And Strange just watches, hands in his pocket to keep warm, as Lambert glides down the hill. He doesn't really know much about dragons, what with them not existing in his world, but that is impressive and seems very dragony. Granted, it's not really flying but maybe dragons in Lambert's world don't fly to begin with. Or perhaps, maybe whatever dragon the Ringmaster helped him turn into doesn't fly to begin with. After all, some birds don't fly.

He stands and waits as Lambert slowly clambers back up the hill. Once he's within hearing range, Strange calls out, ]

We'll have to find some proper cliffs one of these days! Then you could really enjoy yourself.

We used to practice off the mountains in the Carnival! [ Celandine's small furry head pops up from behind Lambert's scaly shoulder, answering the question of where she's been all this time. Her cape's gotten a bit askew and her fur is ridiculously ruffled from being buffeted by the wind, but she's pleased that Strange is suitably impressed, at least. ]

Getting back up was a lot harder unless we could talk Sans into taking us, though. Besides--

[ Besides what, exactly, she doesn't get the chance to explain, as the magic that's holding Lambert's dragon form together rather abruptly unravels, leaving him naked in the cold with Celandine clinging onto his shoulder. He doesn't seem all that surprised, though -- just inconvenienced, as he swears loudly and clucks for Pig. The Pokemon steps over, and Lambert drags the blanket off her saddle and wraps it around himself. ]

[ As Pig steps over, Strange mutters something under his breath. A small fireball, about the size of an apple appears in his hands. He steps over towards Lambert and holds the fire near him. It won't warm him up completely, but it might help. ]

You idiot, [ he can't help but gently chastise, ] I don't know why you didn't ask me. You've seen me travel through ice and water. As long as I set the puddles ahead of time, I could easily take you up to the mountains and back.

[ It wouldn't be as easy as Strange thinks it would be, especially if he's lugging along supplies as well as Lambert. Still, wouldn't be Jonathan Strange if he wasn't massively overconfident in his abilities. ]

[ Oddly enough, as Lambert pulls on the red cloth, he seems to noticeably shiver less, even without the fireball near -- though that certainly helps. As to why he didn't ask Strange, though ... he shrugs, looking wry. ]

Sans was who I got the idea from in the first place. I figured it made sense to ask the other person who turns into a giant animal on a regular basis.

[ He grins at Strange, fangs flashing briefly. Celandine will fill in for him then, after a brief pause: ]

Besides, Sans is a lot more patient. There was a lot of swearing.

I'm patient! [ no he isn't. Strange sighs for a moment before he admits, in a tone of voice that implies he really doesn't want to say this, ]

But Sans does have more experience with transformation magic than I do. If you wanted someone who could just help in that regard, he would be a good choice.

[ But Strange is better at moving people! That's his story and he's sticking with it! ]

[ To which Lambert makes an exaggerated show of looking around, clutching one hand to his chest as Celandine laughs. ]

Is the world ending? Did I just hear Jonathan Strange admit someone might be better at magic than he is?

I am being humble, [ Strange grumbles, entirely unaware that it doesn't count as being humble if you have to acknowledge how humble you are.

Anyway, being humble sucks, why would people suggest he do this anyway, it blows. ]

You're being not very good at being humble.

[ Lambert offers in return, cheerfully shitty. ]

Anyway, magic like this is a pain. [ The other reason he wasn't so eager to advertise it around. ] I don't have it as bad as Sans, but I can't hold the shape for long. The longest I ever managed was when I was fighting Sans in the Manor.

[ And Strange lets out an annoyed little huff. He knows he sucks at being humble, so sue him, okay?

Though, his annoyance lessens as he listens to Lambert talk. ]

Do you want to be able to holds it longer? I can at least try to help if that's the case.

[ Lambert pauses, hesitating, then gives Strange a sly look. ]

You can see magic like Rita can, right? You're going to have to look at me when I change.

[ ......why him. Why this.

Strange sighs, and looks slightly irritated and resigned as he does so. ]

In that case, change again. I'll- [ SIIIIIIGH ] -take a good look at the magic.

[ Lambert doesn't bother to hide the snicker. ]

Calm down, seeing my dick isn't going to burn your eyes out.

[ Why is Strange such a prude anyway, he's seen Lambert naked, like, a lot. So much. Lambert naked and variously dry, wet, bloody, muddy, and even dead; the prudishness now seems wildly misplaced, but anyway... time for things to suck again. ]

I'll keep the blanket on to spare you. No promises on the change back, though.

[ Celandine scampers off to the side, Lambert takes a breath -- and shifts, again. It isn't as instantaneous this time, the magic taking more of an effort somehow, a weight of possibility in the air that hangs for a long moment before it expands outward. It's unmistakably fae magic, and it's all colored in the pale gold of Lambert's soul, threading through the spell as it reweaves his body and consciousness in the blink of an eye. Then the dragon's standing in front of Strange again, and Lambert exhales, softly. ]

[ It's not being a prude if you don't want to see your buddy naked! It's common sense!

Still, Strange watches, staring at Lambert rather intently as he shifts from human to dragon. The magic is beautiful (but then again, Strange feels most magic is) and, thankfully for him, intensely easy to piece out. ]

The magic is obviously yours. But it's so overwhelmingly fae. Perhaps if you found a way to make it less fae and more Lambert then the spell would come easier to you. [ There's a pause, before, ] Your magic is a pale yellow, by the way. People's magic occasionally shows up as a different color.

[ Lambert sighs. Because he's a dragon, it comes out as a rather alarmingly vivid plume of flame, the blanket still draped awkwardly over his back. ]

Considering the spell's from the Ringmaster, no shit it's fae. [ What does 'more Lambert' even mean, as far as magic's concerned? It's not like Lambert knows what that means!

Celandine, in her little cape still, pipes up -- her eyes the same vivid color as the magic Strange just saw... ]

Like Lambert's fae marks, you mean?

[ Oh. Celandine's right. It takes the daemon's words for Strange to put together some of the points. It helps that considering how damn naked Lambert is, Strange got a good view of those fae marks just a few moments ago. ]

They're exactly the same color of Lambert's fae marks. And your eyes as well—you can hop on my shoulder if you want, by the way. [ Tiny little polecat in the snow! Might as well offer just to see if Celandine doesn't want to get her tiny little paws wet.

The question of what Strange means by 'more Lambert' is temporarily ignored as he thinks about the implications of the fact that each person's magic seems to be entirely color-coded. ]

[ Tiny polecat pretty deep in the snow, yeah, on account of being tiny. She hesitates a little, remembering the last time he touched her, but Strange is wearing some pretty thick clothing right now, and nobody's drunk, so it should probably be all right. She'll take Strange up on the offer, scrambling up his leg and clothes to perch at a higher vantage point. ]

It wasn't always that color. [ She volunteers, entirely unsolicited. ] The Ringmaster said it must have changed because of Portland.

[ Lambert hisses softly, breath steaming the air in front of him. Chatterbox of a soul. He blames Strange blabbing about souls for that being a topic back at the front of his mind, for all he'd shoved that down and forgotten before. ]

Edited 2018-01-12 05:08 (UTC)

IC CONTACT for lostcarnival

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