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

[atouts]

[ 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.

[whattaprick]

[ '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. ]

[atouts]

[ 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? ]

[whattaprick]

[ 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. ]

[atouts]

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

Remember what, exactly?

[whattaprick]

[ 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.

[atouts]

[ 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.

[whattaprick]

[ 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.

[atouts]

[ 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. ]

[whattaprick]

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.

[atouts]

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.

[whattaprick]

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.

[atouts]

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. ]

[whattaprick]

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?

[atouts]

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.

[whattaprick]

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?

[atouts]

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.

[whattaprick]

[ Prophecy. Prophecy, why does that word in combination with the names of Strange and Norrell? Lambert's nose wrinkles, lapsing into silence once again. After a moment, the memory comes to him. ]

Strange told me he started being a magician after some man under a hedge sold him spells and gave him a prophecy. [ He says. Of course, fat lot of luck getting what the details were. Nonetheless, just how many prophecies can be attached to one man? It must be the same one. ]

Did the prophecy say anything about him getting himself cursed and trapped in the first place? [ His withering tone says he doubts it. Prophecies never have anything useful like that. ]

[atouts]

Oh, I know. That man harrassed Mr. Norrell and stole the very same spells that Strange first used from me.

[ Seeing how it's all caught up in one big ridiculous prophecy, realizing that ended up being funnier than it was infuriating, even if, at the time, how much he tried tracking Vinculus down all over again was a damn headache. ]

But no, it didn't. I did cover what he got up to in Venice but the rest kept referencing a nameless slave. I have always thought that meant John Uskglass himself but he keeps telling me that I'm wrong about it.

[whattaprick]

[ At that, Lambert outright laughs, a burst of amusement that makes him shake against Childermass while his tail thumps on the desk behind him ... then lazily, possessively curls around the magician's back, draping against his hip. ]

Stole from you? Now that I would have liked to see.

[ Not that he expects he reacted in anything other than a very Childermass like way. ]

If it was easy to understand, it wouldn't be much of a prophecy. They're never useful when you need them to be.

[atouts]

[ And it's out of habit that he unfolds his arms from across his chest and settles a hand on the tail once it wraps around. Even so, he rolls his eyes at Lambert. ]

You wouldn't have seen anything. Even I didn't see how he did it. He picked my coat pocket and then vanished... [ Annoying but he isn't so egotistical that he can't admit someone else got the better of him. At least it was for a good reason in the end. As for prophecy, well, he shrugs, because what else is there to do? ] I suppose. I imagine I might not even know what to do after the book's translated if it's just more of the same...

[ But he'll try. It's the best lead they have right now. ]

[whattaprick]

[ His tail twitches a little as the magician lays a hand on it, but that's all, staying tucked comfortably where it is. It's so easy to get comfortable around Childermass these days that Lambert knows he should be worried about it, but somehow he just can't be. ]

Just do whatever you know you'd do anyway. I've never put much stock in prophecy. [ Lambert shrugs. ] Why believe the future depends on what's written in some book?

[atouts]

Because it's already proven right before. Why wouldn't it be right a second time?

[ Also it's the Raven King's book. Of course he'll put stock in it, no matter what's written within. ]

[whattaprick]

Did you believe in the prophecy the first time you heard it? Did Strange or Norrell?

[ Like, he's pretty sure the answer is no. ]

Destiny's just a bunch of crap. [ His hand tightens in the blanket still half-draped around him, before he forces himself to relax. ]

[atouts]

I'd like to believe that but in this case... [ Not so much, Lambert. Them's the breaks. ] At least this time we won't have to rely on the memory of a complete lush.