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]

[ 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. ]