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]

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.

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert's snort says enough about what he thinks, but he's not all that interested in talking about fate or destiny or whatever much longer than they already have. ]

You got anywhere else to be right now? [ He's not even going to bother being subtle about the subject change. ]

[atouts]

[ It's Lambert. Childermass doesn't expect subtle from him, though he will give the witcher a narrow-eyed look of suspicion at the question. ]

No. Yours was the last package I had to drop off.

[whattaprick]

[ And in answer to that narrow-eyed look, Lambert gives him a wide, slow grin. ]

See, as it happens, I just had a prophecy of my own. And since you're so keen on them, I was wondering if you'd help me fulfill it. [ He'll only give Childermass a moment to think that over before he continues, regardless of response: ]

I'm pretty sure it involves my mouth on your prick.

[atouts]

[ Good god, why does he even put up with this guy...

It's not even surprising that Lambert would lead with a line like that because, again, it's Lambert. That means Childermass skips the part where someone else might have been offended to give him yet another one of his patented unimpressed looks instead. ]

Hm. Too straightforward for a prophecy, [ is his deadpan response. ] Sounds like it might end the world over what you'd think it meant.

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert gives him a companionable squeeze with his tail. He isn't being shoved off and disappeared on, yet, so he'll count it as a win. ]

The rest of the details are a little fuzzy, but it's open to interpretation. [ He shifts his position so that instead of leaning on the desk beside Childermass, he's face to face with the magician, his tail long enough to stay coiled around him through the movement, though by necessity it slides around a bit. His hands come to rest on the edge of the desk on either side of Childermass, though he doesn't crowd him in too much, just grinning in the face of his deadpan look. ]

Ending the world's a bit dramatic though, don't you think?

[atouts]

It was either that or rain.

[ Go big or go home or whatever. Childermass has kept fairly still during Lambert's moving about, eyes flitting briefly down to the tail as it slides away but doesn't quite leave. It's a sudden reminder that it really is that long, isn't it? Of all the strange shit here... well, that's not even the strangest.

He looks up again once the witcher has his hands settled, boxing him in as he is. Chances are he could still vanish if he really wanted to, but it's not as if this is a threat. So, he quirks an eyebrow. ]

Just how much of my day will I be losing to your interpretation?

[whattaprick]

That depends on how detailed you'll let me get. [ Lambert answers, gamely, teeth glinting in the low light. The blanket is still carelessly dangling off a shoulder, but understandably the gift's the last thing on his mind. ]

I could keep it concise. [ His tail loosens its hold on Childermass, sliding away, and the reason why becomes all too obvious as Lambert begins to slide down to the floor. As he gets on his knees, his hands find the magician's hips and press him gently back against the desk, his tail waving playfully behind him. ]

Or I could expound at length. [ He grins up at Childermass, eyes bright with promise. ] What will it be, Mr. Childermass?

[ In the end, of course, it's somewhere between the two, neither lecture nor summary. Lambert commandeers Childermass's attention and uses the opportunity to eloquently elucidate on the subject, occasionally with the assistance of a hand to press a particular point. All in all, it's an astonishingly educational half hour. ]