whattaprick | IC CONTACT for lostcarnival

[ And last on Childermass's creepy shadow-hopping gift delivery route is Lambert's cabin. Ultimately, the goal is to leave the package on the table for him to find and get out again, to carry on with the rest of his day. He steps in through a shadowy corner and pauses there, waiting, listening, to see if he's alone.

He might be.

There's no immediate sign of Lambert being in the living room area and that's enough to prompt him to cross the room to the table or counter or even the desk. He'll set a plainly wrapped package down — brown paper tied shut with colored twine and only marked with a tag with a 'C' on it —and then turn to head back the way he had arrived from. ]

[ This morning, as with every other morning since Childermass started up the ritual of sleeping over, Lambert had woken to an empty bed. It never gets any less disappointing every time, but he reminds himself even this is probably going to stop once they get back to business, so he might as well enjoy what he can get.

As Childermass's luck would have it -- perhaps he lingered in the shadows just a moment too long making sure Lambert was out, perhaps it was because he made the mistake of putting his back to the door -- now is when the door swings open without warning, revealing Lambert with an armful of bags, a scarf around his neck, and an utterly surprised expression when he realizes just who's inside his cabin.

He freezes in the doorway for half a beat, then relaxes, raising a brow. He steps in the rest of the way and shuts the door firmly behind him, and the rest of the Carnival outside with it. ]

Did you need something? [ From where he's standing, Childermass blocks his line of sight to the box on the desk, and he lifts a hand to start tugging his scarf loose. ]

Edited 2018-01-12 00:16 (UTC)

[ Even being caught, Childermass isn't going to act guilty about it (not that he ever would, even if he had been up to something legitimately shady). Even if he only did stay nights, he doubts that meant he was forbidden to be here at other times, so turning around to look at Lambert only garners a quirk of an eyebrow.

And to answer the question, he turns and steps aside, revealing the package where he's left it. ]

Only dropping something off. I've been out delivering a few of them today and that includes to you, Lambert.

[ He doesn't really want to say gifts. It's still so odd, actually being able to give them out at all. ]

[ Now that is a surprise. Childermass had vaguely alluded to getting them something, but they'd never gotten to figuring out what that even was before the rest of that evening got wiped away in an alcoholic blur. At least even drunk they all collectively managed to have the sense to stay out of the slush. He steps over to the desk and Childermass once he's carelessly tossed scarf and coat over the couch, the paper bag in hand rustling as he sets it down and swaps it out for the present instead, picking it up and hefting its weight. ]

Hmm. Too light to be booze. Too big to be something to replace all the shit you've stolen from me. [ Not that he has any problem stealing it back, though in his case he doesn't have to be discreet about it. He won't ask Childermass if he wants to be around for the present opening or not, merely making quick, perfunctory work of the wrappings to satisfy his curiosity. ]

[ The package is warm to the touch, even through the wrapping, and when Lambert starts opening it, Childermass sticks around. No point in leaving, so he may as well see one reaction to a present that he's otherwise avoided up until now.

With the paper torn away, why it's so light and big becomes readily apparent. It's a blanket, its color spanning an entire range of reds from dark to light. Fairly thick, but not burdensome, and warm, so warm, even in the absence of being wrapped around someone. There's no explanation for it forthcoming from the magician, however, who simply stands by quietly and watches. ]

[ Lambert's expression shifts from amused, to puzzled, to genuinely curious as he opens the present up. At first, he thinks Childermass might have gotten him clothes -- an answer to the swashbuckling outfit he'd laughed at the other night. Once he holds it up and shakes it out by the corners, it's much more obvious what it is, and a grin starts slowly spreading on his face as he drapes it over his own shoulders with a careless flick.

Where Childermass has started to find it difficult to detect the cold, Lambert's tended to the opposite, so he isn't sure if he's only imagining the warmth under his hands. There is an easy enough answer, though: his face is still cold from being outside, so he lifts a handful of blanket to press it to his mouth and cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs into it, the sound muffled until he pulls it away to speak. ]

You got me a blanket. A magic blanket.

[ He'll take the laughter as a good sign. ]

Yes. I got you a magic blanket. [ As absurd as that sounds. ] I had a few scarves made from the same fabric before and then thought you might like something a bit bigger, considering how much time you spend complaining about the ice and snow like some brittle old lady.

Edited 2018-01-12 01:07 (UTC)

Or it's all part of your plan to keep all my sheets for yourself. [ Childermass is rather in the habit of grabbing them, after all, and stealing all of Lambert's body warmth. ]

Lucky for you, I like to share. [ One step, two, and then he's in Childermass's space, grinning and holding his arms out so he can wrap them around Childermass -- and wrap him into the blanket with Lambert, with it. ]

[ Okay, that gets him to raise his eyebrows when Lambert catches up him up in his arms and, therefore, the blanket. Really? ]

A bit sappy, isn't it? [ Childermass can't help but point out lightly, even if he is sticking around rather than vanishing from within the witcher's hug. ] Not very monster slayer of you at all, I'd say.

[ 'Sappy' would have been joking about Childermass giving him something to keep him warm when he isn't around to. But some things are better left unsaid, including the thought that he's probably glad Strange isn't around right now, or he probably wouldn't have been allowed to respond like this. He squeezes Childermass lightly, warm breath running against his temple as he chuckles. ]

You don't seem to mind. [ For lack of anything witty to say, he'll point out the obvious. And ... for lack of anything to say period, he'll simply press his lips against his forehead, then trail them down to his nose, and his cheek, all for the purpose of nudging his face up towards him so he can give him a proper kiss. ]

[ See, this? This is why he'd been trying to sneak in and back out again. Childermass tolerates the kissing up until Lambert reaches his lips, then he has to lean back and frown up at him. ]

It's only a blanket. [ It isn't that amazing, though he supposes Lambert doesn't need much cause to be affectionate. That's a little embarrassing, especially since it brings back to mind— ] Although since you are bringing the topic up, just why was Strange talking about souls and kissing the other night?

[ The soul part would be on himself, probably, but the rest? ]

[ It's the thought that counts, Childermass. He doesn't expect he'll see this kind of generosity again for another few months, so he might as well show his appreciation while he's here. When Childermass leans back, he doesn't pursue, though he keeps his arms around him and wishes he'd interrupted when he hears the question that comes next.

Now it's his turn to look embarrassed, ears pinning back delicately as he averts his gaze and grimaces. ]

Ah. That. [ Well, at least he's stopped clamoring for Childermass's attentions now. ] Strange got high and the topic came up. I didn't think he'd remember...

[ He actually didn't think Childermass would remember too, on account of how soused everyone eventually become, but that was probably just wishful thinking at its finest. ]

Edited 2018-01-12 03:18 (UTC)

[ Oh good, now he can go from generally fine to seriously annoyed in two seconds flat. ]

Remember what, exactly?

[ Predictably, Childermass's annoyance is met with a scowl from Lambert's end, sensitive as ever. ]

Nothing about you, if that's what you're worried about. [ He answers sharply. He'd made a promise and he intended to keep it, after all. ] I told him I liked both men and women and he told me he personally didn't care who was fucking who, as long as everyone was happy. [ Because Strange is a damn romantic, obviously. He lets Childermass go and steps back, one hand still holding the blanket around his shoulders as he shrugs. ]

Not a popular opinion in England, as far as I could gather.

[ That's all? God, he really is being so uptight about this. As Lambert steps back, Childermass just stays put, hands dropping down to his side as he sighs. ]

It... no. It isn't, but I already told you as much. Were we back in England, I doubt he would have offered an opinion on it at all.

[ The sigh, at least, means that Lambert isn't about to get yelled at -- not in the next five seconds, anyway -- and his shoulders drop a little, though his tail stays limp, the only motion the light way it curls around an ankle. ]

No, he probably wouldn't have. Not in public, anyway. [ His tone is plain and direct. Strange's bit about not turning his back on a friend was heartwarming and all the rest, but he said enough for Lambert to get a plain picture of what that would play out like in reality. ]

Not everyone can afford to leave the country to get away from rumor. And apparently in England, if rumor's bad enough, you won't find a single person who wants to have anything to do with you. [ A beat. ] That would probably make bringing back English magic pretty damn difficult, wouldn't it.

[ To that much, he can just shrug. Whether he's there or not, it doesn't actually make a huge difference for England and, he already knows, some would much prefer he not be involved anymore at all. It's just life, though. He's used to that. He won't tell Lambert that directly, but he will say, ]

English magic has already returned. What's left is figuring out what to do with it. They have what they need to get by without me but I would much prefer to witness it myself after all that's been done.

[ After what he's done, but that's ego talking and he's no Strange. In the end, he isn't entirely necessary, especially considering he's already handed over the book. ]

Edited 2018-01-12 04:47 (UTC)

Don't sell yourself short. [ To that, Lambert smirks. ]

Strange told me -- and he was sober this time -- [ Mostly, but this is probably acceptable bending of reality. ] -- that you're now officially the greatest authority on magic in the country. They may not like that, but they'll put up with it long enough to make sure they can wring you dry first. Who'd ever risk themselves when there's someone who can do it for them?

[ Not that he's speaking from personal bitterness at all. He shuffles over a bit so he's sitting on the edge of the desk, blanket still draped around him, his fingers absently stroking the soft material. ]

Besides, magic's the most important thing in your life. Don't act like you'd just sit back and let them fuck it up.

Edited (TYPOS) 2018-01-12 05:20 (UTC)

Which will last up until they realize I can see right through them.

[ It isn't that they're all bad or anything. Far from it. It's just all the magicians are so new, it's impossible to tell who will actually be useful and who's only in it for fame. He will, as always, only be useful to those furthering magic for magic's sake.

That makes him more of an obstacle, really.

But he just shakes his head and moves, trailing along after Lambert as he shuffles back to find a seat, though he'll stop again at a few paces — out of reach — and idly settle his hands on his hips. He looks thoughtful, but why shouldn't he? This is a topic he thinks about often enough. ]

I might not have a choice in the matter, either, even without rumors. I aided Mr. Norrell in offending a good part of the theoretical magicians of the time, well before magic truly returned, and now that the new magicians have settled into their own factions, neither side knows what to make of me.

Strange's book said the Raven King showed up and scared England shitless so he could do whatever he wanted. [ A highly abbreviated version of that lengthy history, but basically that. ] Doesn't seem much like the magicians you've got to deal with now.

[ They're off the topic of kissing, but Lambert has the distinct sense he's just a sounding board here, and not actually of much use in a serious consideration of Childermass's options. ]

You've got, what, half a year left on your contract? Plenty of time to figure out how to deal with it.

They aren't scary, Lambert. They're political. [ Worse, so much worse. ] But for all the time I spend talking about it or thinking about it, I do know what my plan is for when that half a year comes due. Once that part is done, then I'll need to reconsider what my position is.

[ So, shrug and move on, basically. Like that's any big surprise coming from Childermass. ]

It's not too late to run away and become a hermit. [ Lambert doesn't have a positive opinion of politics, hates the idea of being stuck into a position where he's mean to fix someone else's mess even more ... ah, not that anyone would trust him with that in the first place.

Speaking of trust, he doesn't expect Childermass will give him an answer to the question he's about to ask, but he asks it anyway. ]

What is your plan?

To translate a book.

[ Yes. That's it. Is he telling the truth? Making shit up?

Well, whichever it is, he steps closer and up to the spot on the table next to Lambert, turning to lean against it, more or less joining him there. He doesn't bother looking over at the witcher as he does, staring thoughtfully off across the cabin instead as his mind settles on just what he's up to... or will be up to, then, in the future. ]

It's why I came here in the first place. The most important book in all of English magic fell right into my lap [ not literally, thank god ] and there's not a soul left alive who can read it.

Yeah? [ There's a considering pause while Lamber weighs that information. While his instinct is to laugh it off, if there is anyone who would make a contract for a year and a day for a book, it would certainly be Childermass. Besides, if it's to further the cause of English magic, he supposed Childermass wouldn't joke about that.

When he comes up to sit beside him, he shifts his weight slightly, just enough to companionably press his hip to the magician's, although it's the barest suggestion of touch. One has to wonder if it's deliberate or refexive, a response that's becoming all too automatic. ]

Really knew what you were doing when you signed up, huh? [ Okay, the playful nudge in Childermass's side is definitely deliberate. ] What's so important about this book, anyway?

I had an idea.

[ The barest of one, prompted by several readings, but he won't get into that. In any case, he tolerates the nudge and the closeness, same as he usually does, and looks up briefly at Lambert. He shrugs, of course. What else could Lambert have expected? ]

It held the previous prophecy but changed once Strange and Mr. Norrell fulfilled it. I do not know what the Raven King has written next. Could be a way to bring Hurtfew Abbey back, could be nothing than his favorite bread recipes. All I know for sure is that I need a translation key.

Edited 2018-01-13 08:00 (UTC)

IC CONTACT for lostcarnival

backdated to D21, Lunar Solstice

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