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

[whattaprick]

[ Its a good thing polecats can't blush, but Celandine sounds embarrassed anyway. ]

We didn't do that much. It was mostly lucky Yuya was there.

[ Lambert sighs, a great puff of steam rising from his mouth. ]

Seen what you needed to see? I'm changing back now.

[kingsroads]

You did more than most people did, [ Strange muses. More than he did, at least.

Strange nods at Lambert's question. He watches Lambert change back with as much intensity as he did before, though Strange starts talking in the middle of it. ]

I've a theory. We already know that different worlds and realms have different types of magic. I could never summon a daemon in England, for example, just as nothing in your world could perform some of the magic we've seen the fae use. And yet, due to our travels between worlds, we're able to pick up on that magic and replicate those spells in places where they normally couldn't be cast. But as long as you simply replicate it, it will never be yours and you'll never fully push past the boundaries you've been given.

[ He's not doing that good a job explaining it. Strange frowns for a moment, thinking it over, before he plows into a question. ]

This might help. How much do you know about music?

[whattaprick]

[ As the dragon's form collapses and dissipates, like a thread coming unraveled, it leaves Lambert back in the blanket again, teeth gritting against the cold against his feet. Unfortunately, that question earns Strange a bit of a blank look. Yeah, most of what he just said went riiight over his head. ]

What's music got to do with magic?

[kingsroads]

[ Yeah, Strange had a feeling it did. Hopefully this analogy will make it better (though he has a feeling it's only going to cause Lambert to give him all the more questions). ]

Music's written note for note, tone for tone. [ And Strange hums a few bars of some sort of old folk song. He hums them in a very measured fashion, like he's reading the notes directly off a sheet of paper. Thankfully, he stays on key, but it's obvious just from the humming that Strange isn't going to win any awards for his singing. ] But nobody performs music like that. You put yourself in the song and change it up a bit. [ And so, Strange hums the same few bars again, but the tempo's changed a little, a few of the notes are longer and shorter, it's Strange having a bit more fun with the piece and humming it like people might actually sing it. ]

That's what you need to do with your magic. It seems a bit too straightforward. I know you'll say that witchers aren't meant for this or whatever excuse you've used before, but at least try to explore it a little.

[whattaprick]

[ Yeah, Lambert's going to give Strange a long look for that analogy, because frankly, he can't carry a tune himself (or so he's told, he can't tell) and so it's largely lost on him. Still, he recognizes that Strange is trying to help how he can; it's just hard to explain his limitations to Strange, who assumes so easily that magic should come to everyone like it does to him. ]

It's not an excuse. [ He snaps testily, almost a snarl, while Celandine puffs up a little in distress on Strange's shoulder. ] It's a fact, one I grew up being reminded of every day we trained, that every bit of magic a witcher could scrape together a real sorcerer could do better. That the signs we use barely count as spells at all, and that copying what we were taught is the best we'd ever be able to manage. So no, I don't know where to begin to explore magic, because I never could.

[kingsroads]

[ Strange is trying his hardest. But it's equally hard for him to accept that someone has limitations on magic in the first place and even harder for him to accept that someone just accepts those limitations. But how to explore magic, he might be able to explain that. ]

You explore it by trying to change your spells. Try to make Igni burn a little bigger. Remain a dragon a little bit longer every time you shift. That...that whatever the hell you did when you cast Yrden when we all were drunk? Try to do it again but every time we cast it.

[whattaprick]

I am trying. What do you think I learned this for to start with? [ Lambert grates out. He'd come out here in a pretty good mood, but as always, encountering something that frustrates him summons the familiar defensiveness.

The shift in mood has Celandine scrambling down off Strange's shoulder, scuttling over to Lambert across the snow to chide her other half before he says something he'll regret. ]

[kingsroads]

[ Strange bites his lip before saying what's on his mind (well you're obviously not trying hard enough, are you) but his annoyance of the whole situation is palpable as well. This should be easy for Lambert. Why isn't it? ]

I just don't understand why it's not as easy for you as it should be. We're in faerie, for heaven's sake! This place bleeds magic.

[whattaprick]

We don't know. [ Celandine says plaintively. It's not hard to feel they're letting Strange down somehow, even when it isn't even their fault. It's not, and the mulish, stubborn set of Lambert's jaw looks like he's ramping up to yell, but Celandine is there by then, pressing against his ankle in that stupid little cape Strange made for her, and that stormy expression softens a little.

He doesn't have to actually spend all his time yelling at the people he likes. ]

I'm not like you. [ Is what he has to offer, finally, looking up at him. ] It's like ... it's like you and exercise. I have to work for it. [ He scowls, reflexively. ]

And we only care about working on magic if it will keep us and the people we care about alive. [ Celandine says, despite being a testament to not being a spell not at all that related to survival. Well, unless mental wellness counts. ] You live for magic. We just use it. You're right -- this place bleeds magic. And there's so little we were taught against that.

[kingsroads]

[ What's a nice way to call bullshit. Because Strange knows that Lambert's got magic that has nothing to do with keeping himself alive. There's Celandine. And then there's the fact that he turns into a goddamn dragon, something which could keep people alive, but something that Strange is entirely certain Lambert chose because it's fun.

A brief period of mulling things over tells Strange that the nicest way to call bullshit is to just not call it out at all. ]

If you say so, [ Strange simply responds, though it's obvious he's not convinced about the matter. ] If you ever change your mind, though.... [ Strange trails off, but it's obvious what he's leaving unspoken: if Lambert ever changes his mind, then go bother Strange. ]

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert relaxes, fractionally, as Strange doesn't call him on bullshit, and Celandine sighs, pressing against him. He has his reasons, but he doesn't care to be pressed about them. And if Strange will leave it alone, then he doesn't have to get defensive about them. It doesn't matter that Strange isn't convinced; what matters is that he doesn't say it. ]

Thanks. [ He says, quietly. And then -- ] I'm staying out here a while longer. You can stay or head back to the Carnival if you want.

[kingsroads]

I think I might head back, [ Strange admits, shivering slightly. It's cold! ] You do have your radio on you, don't you? Call me if you need a lift or want me to bring you anything.

[ One of the joys of dumb teleport spammy magic. ]