1965-03-07 - Wild Magic
Summary: Tired of being a little goat in a big city, Lambert gets Strange and others to help him research a little about wild magic.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
kai amanda-sefton strange lambert 

Once upon a time, insane asylums were small boxes. But that changed with the Kirkbride Plan. A more humane approach to mental health, the plan focused on care and treatment in psychiatric institutions rather than mere containment. Open buildings and rehabilitative programs involving art, farming, and therapy improved the lives of the individuals with mental illness who lived at one of the rash of new hospitals that opened in the late 1800s.

While this was undoubtedly an improvement on the conditions of previous mental-health care, Kirkbride-style facilities were overpopulated, understaffed, and again became a dumping ground for people with developmental disabilities. Reports of maltreatment became increasingly common, especially when the 1950s and '60s brought about sedative pharmaceutical treatments. The institutions were defunded, shuttered, closed. Many of them contained furnaces and other elements which were hard to break down, and as a result, in a world where superpowers can destructively occur, demolishing them was less important than ensuring the latest alien invasion was stopped.

North Brother Island, in the East River, houses an abandoned hospital. And it is here that Strange has told Lambert to go. And Lambert, being as able to keep a harmless secret to himself as he is his hands, has headed there. This abandoned asylum was once a state of the art facility before devolving into one of the most deadly mental institutions in American history - typhoid fever ran through it at a terrifying rate. Not that Lambert seems to mind, here he is at the gates outside, wearing his usual non-work clothing - a college varsity jacket for track and field, and a cap with blue jeans. He has made some acknowledgement of the importance of researching this topic - he has brought the Mead of the Gods. In a large thermos.

In hindsight, this might not have been the best suggestion at hand. Still, here is the Sorcerer Supreme, gloved hands jammed into his black Belstaff coat, glaring thoughtfully at the expansive property behind the rusted and nature-worn gates. Beneath it, his mantle-blues, battle-leathers in dusky hues. About his neck, the crimson scarf, Cloak in disguise. His sigh whitens the air briefly, seen in the slowly falling light of sunset, and he glances over at the jacketed younger man.

"And you want to do what again with this mead?" he asks, still dubious enough that it apparently warrants yet another explanation.

Abandoned hospital? Sounds creepy. Kai is there. He's not wearing his bright mod colors today. They could get dirty. Today it's jeans and a black pullover, and a wool coat. "Lambert, did you bring the good stuff? I can't come to a place like this and not get drunk." When he spies Strange, he perks up. "Doctor! Did you come to party with us? How delightful." When the mead is mentioned, he relaxes. Lambert brought the good stuff.

Amanda Sefton could count on one hand the number of people that know she's a sorceress. On the other hand, she's still -learning- and there's a few magically-sealed places in New York that's accidentally attempted to teleport near. The result, like now, is always disastrous. Who knows what it was this time. Whatever it was, it sent her here. Air parts in a nice little tear in reality, blue energy spiraling behind her, and Amanda is spit back out into the normal world, tumbling onto the ground. Ow.

Lambert is dressed pretty lightly, but as has been noted by others previously, he is robust. His other relatives barely wear clothes no matter what the weather, so his jacket and jeans are enough to keep the Satyrling warm "Well," he says "Lamont said that you can't research wild magic, you can only release yourself to it." Lambert slides the thermos back into its dinky little leather holder at his hip. As if he were going camping "So I figured maybe getting drunk would help? I had to brew it extra strong so it would affect me properly, though. Well, and Kai." He nods towards Kai. Asgardian stamina is a real thing. Lambert adds "And I made sandwiches. But I don't know what you like to eat on yours. Anyway. Can you sense anything here? Wild magic? Creepy ghosts? Which way to go? Wait. Maybe hot ghosts?" He brightens. And then…


Lambert regards Amanda, and he blinks "Gosh," he turns his head to Strange, admiringly "You're _good_. Wait. Can you do money too?"

All of this sounds entirely irresponsible — so, of course, Strange keeps up that judicial scrutiny he's so famous for.

"I didn't come to party, no, Kai. I came to research." His eyes shift to Lambert. "No, I don't sense anything out of the norm…yet. I don't do money, and that…was not me," he adds, stepping over to his fallen fellow practitioner. A hand, gloved in black leather, is offered out to her. "If you're uncertain as to the location of your arrival when you attempt magic like this, you do risk any number of injuries and even fatalities. Miss…Sefton, wasn't it? We spoke in Devizes a number of months back, I believe."

Kai's brow furrows. Not partying? Hrm. "Well, I'm going to explore," he says. "Save me some mead, Lambert." And he begins to wander. Amanda's arrival is taken in stride. He beams at her and waves. "I'm going to explore," he tells her. Sure, cool magic stuff might happen here, but he's a restless elf and there's the ruins of an abandoned hospital to delve into.

At first, she grumbles. "I know how my teleporting works. Everyone is so quick to criticize. First that Asgardian witch and now…" Oh, wait. It's Strange. She looks apologetic a moment and accepts the hand. When standing, she dusts off the long white coat she wears when off doing magic things. "Sorry. There are a few places in the city that seem to enjoy deflecting me when I teleport. And every time I emerge, someone is there to tell me I did it wrong," she says. That vaguely German accent as crisp as ever. "I didn't… accidentally intrude, did I?" She doesn't seem to have realized what Lambert was referring to.

Lambert waggles his brows impishly at Miss Sefton. And he is remarkably good at _that_ given the two little horns that protrude from his forehead. However, the ears are long - somewhere between elfin shaped, and goatish-furry, so as much as he might want to look like a dashing devil? This is more of a caprine caper. Lambert heads up to the door, and tugs on it, then reaches up and _pulls_ down hard on the rusty hinges, which pop. He may not quite be a super hero, but he is very, very strong. The young man then says mildly "I don't know how teleporting works, and Strange here doesn't seem to be that angry! I think? I'm not sure. I'm like, at least half and half certain he has the same expression in bed."

The door starts to open with a low creak, and Lambert says brightly "Okay, let's head inside. I haven't been able to sense anything in the city, but it's _so_ built up. And I'm only a quarter magic. Not real magic like you, Doctor - or you…miss? Hi! I'm Lambert, sweetcheeks. You sure are pretty."

A light breeze stirs the dry leaves in the courtyard beyond. They rustle, soft, soft as breath.

Once Amanda's properly on her feet, Strange turns and walks back over to Lambert. He gives the departing Elf a mildly concerned look, but only for so long. His kind are study and tough when pushed; he'll be just fine.

Upon hearing the caprine-kin's side comment, he snorts. "The business of my bedroom is none of yours, sir," comes the mutter, accompanied by a smirk, even as he strides onto the grounds of the hospital with nary a second thought or hesitation. After all, what's here that could threaten him? Still, the crawl of such uninhibited magic inundating the locale draws up his skin like silken scarves and he can't help the short intake of breath. The small hairs on the back of his neck rise even as he glances about, eyes beginning to take on the glow of the Sight.

"I would council all present to mind themselves." That's all he has to say in the matter of what frissons dance along bared skin, but perhaps its meaningful coming from him.

"Amanda," the Romani woman replies to Lambert. It doesn't sound… well, appropriate to her looks or accent. But then, she's the one that chooses what she wants to go by, right? The compliment brings a flush to Amanda's cheeks; she uses the white hood to duck away and hide the blush. Seeing as how she's not being shooed off by either of the men and she is indeed curious, she decides to stick around and follow them. Strange's advice is met with a firm nod. She gets it.

Lambert steps properly into the place and tilts his head. From under his cap, his ears flick out, then move around independently. He focuses on the leaf, and turns his head to look up to the fragmentary remnants of glass in the empty mouths of windows above "Huh," says Lambert, and he shakes his head, and snorts once, twice. He scratches the back of his neck where the skin crawls - under a fleecy pelt that descends into his collar, styled to look like the pretense of long hair. Then he fetches up next to Strange, and he says to him "You mean what? Pay attention? I'm trying." He then adds to him "Er, I don't see real well when the light gets low - much worse than a human. So I have a torch for inside." And then he says to Amanda "Come on in. Do you like mead? Let's -"

The leaves are spiralling around, more and more, shifting up before each balances end on end in a tall, delicate column in front of all of them.

Warning leveled, the Sorcerer takes a few more long-legged steps further onto the property before slowly drawing to a halt. Movement in his peripheral proves to be Lambert's ears displaying the same ill of ease that Strange feels deep within his gut. Trust the gut — that's one thing every practitioner probably needs to take to heart.

Those aren't very natural inclinations of fallen leaves. Not at all. The silver-templed man rolls back his shoulders unconsciously, readying himself for the reveal of something potentially less-than-friendly and he murmurs to the others, "Occassionally, places such as this guard their magics jealously. That's what I mean when I say to mind oneself." With stance planted, he narrows his eyes at the esoteric display before them.

"Last time I saw leaves move oddly," Amanda murmurs, "It turned out there was a corrupted elemental in the forest near the circus in Westchester." She eyes the swirling display with more than a little worry. Her fingers flex ending in anticipation for whatever spell she must cast.

"An elemental?" asks Lambert suddenly "You mean a naiad, or dryad, or the reed-women? The people of the earth, sea, and fire?" Oh, he knows _those_ but has no idea what American supernaturals are. What a surprise. Lambert says "…I'm pretty strong for a person, but I don't think I can resist flame." And then he says to Strange "Uh. You know. Why don't you stay here and keep an eye on that while the lady and I go and have a look at the old kitchen gardens out the back? Kitchens. They are more my thing."

Let's face it, the Sorcerer's got 'skeptical' down to an art. An arched brow as he looks between the others briefly. By the time his attention returns to the leaves, the Sight has fully flooded his irises, shifting them into the ultraviolet spectrum.

"I have no issue conversing with what entities traverse these grounds. There is history here." The crimson scarf about his neck riffles against the breeze, snark personified in the silky relic. He tilts his head to one side, as a dog might hear something on the breeze, and then nods slowly. "Yes, and…?" Whatever conversation he's privy to, it's within his own psyche. "Thank you, I shall let them know." He turns his consideration back to Amanda and Lambert. "This is a spirit who passed on here. It warns of another spirit, less than kind here. Resentful, I believe — " Strange pauses as more information filters to him. "Yes, thank you. Mind the main building itself. You should be safe in the garden." There's a minor emphasis on that 'should'. He nods his head to both once more. "Go along, I'd like to speak more with this spirit." And with that, he's back to that thousand-yard stare, at and beyond the organized column of leaves, listening to someone probably very grateful for said ear.

"Oh lovely. Resentful spirits." It's only been a few months since the last time she saw one of those. At the question, she shakes her head at Lambert. "It was… a mass of plants and dirt and bones, I think. And some artifct from eras gone by as a heart." Amanda makes a face just thinking about the thing. "It wasn't very pleasant, to be put it lightly."

The sorceror looks skeptical and Lambert looks…cheery, it has to be said. Bright. Mischievous. But then he tilts his head, and he listens, before he says to Amanda "That sounds amazing!" Pleasant? Who knows. Something just under the jacket at his rear twitches, a couple of times "Though I'm not used to them being anything other than dirt and plants…no artefacts. I mean, I'm used to the nature spirits not needing anything extra, if you know what I mean."

Around the edge of the darkened asylum, the ground opens out into thick forest. There is the taint of wild magic here, rather than tame - indeed, rather than spells. Wild can be quite random. Whenever Lambert's ears both flick up, it shorts faint blue crackles between them and his skull, to those with the Sight. The rather rolly polly chef bounces off towards the kitchen gardens area, which is a curving series of steps out around to the left "Follow me. Should I tell you what we're doing here tonight? I don't really know who is a 'good guy' and who is a 'bad guy', so we'll just assume you're nice, alright!"

"I think it was an artificial elemental. Made with magic, held together by… whatever that was." The quick assumption makes Amanda smile faintly. She wears white for this reason. Well. She likes the colour. And her coat is big and can pass for a cloak, maybe. She likes that. "I'd like to think I'm nice," she says. "…nicer than my last teacher, anyhow." Muttergrumble. Her nose twitches a bit as they enter the forested area. "Lots of magic here.."

"Oh, I don't tend to like artificial things that much. I mean, modern science is all well and good," says Lambert, gesturing with a hand with broad fingers "But I'm not entirely comfortable with it all. I prefer being out in the woods." And then he says "So you're a witch? Wizard? I don't know the terms. Hey. What do _you_ think would happen if I gave Loki a transfusion of God's Mead?" He ponders this, and then his own nose twitches. Lambert's ears flick forward "It's darker in here, and my eyesight's worse than ever - ah!"

Up ahead is the remains of what was once a kitchen garden. Probably mostly for the caretakers rather than anyone else - while gardening was considered a healthful occupation, the asylum tended towards disease and ruin. It is unlikely that the fruit from the overgrown apple trees or the woody remains of the lavender and rosemary would have ever graced the plates of the tenants. There is a muddy concrete pond, and above it, something glitters, intently. Like a pink glow, droplets of more magic rising up from the pond itself to join it.

"Oh, that I understand. I think the life I live is pretty simple compared to what most prefer. It's not living out in the woods, but it's… in between living with modern technology and the woods. A nice balance." She thinks it's a nice balance. Though when winter hits, not having to worry about firewood would be really, really nice. Ah well. Tradeoffs, right?

"I… don't know. Loki? As in the God from Asgard?" Amanda frowns. "I don't know much about them. I know one of their valkyries, and I met a spellcaster from Asgard but… that's it, I'm afraid." As she speaks and follows, her gaze darts about, hands moving over surfaces with curiosity. Getting a feel for how the space was used.

"I know Loki. He…she? Whatever! Is in love with a friend of mine. Supposedly," says Lambert cheerily, though he does not sound at all certain that a God can actually love "What are you looking at?" Lambert himself clearly cannot see the glow, nor the glitter of slowly coalescing magic above it. Whatever is happening to slowly draw mana in there, the satyr-kin is not pure blooded enough to sense. However, the hairs are erect on his arms, and he looks twitchier "Is something out there?"

The space was…well. It is a little hard to tell. Once there were rows tilled here. But beneath the area where the water is, there are wishing coins in that muck.

Amanda Sefton gestures in the area she's near. "There's… energy." She frowns, turning her head to look back at Lambert. "Loki is male and was female, or…?" No, no. Explaining will just confuse her more, won't it? "That must be overwhelming, I' think… having a god love you." Back to the space! She motions with her hands. "Energy pooling here, twisting around like a whirlpool." She'll find the wishing coins in time… and refuse to touch them. Nothing good can come over moving those. "Why would you want to give Loki mead? A drunk god can't be fun."

"Why not?" says Lambert, brightly "I think it could be incrediable. Why, getting drunk is the most fun anyone can have anyway." He pauses, and then he says "I can't see it." Lambert moves back and he leans on out, and…no. He cannot see it. The ears flick up, angling the correct way, and the skin has a frisson of energy run across it, but Lambert is -not- a sorceress. The man pulls back, and he says "You know, I think we should go back to Strange. Oh, Loki's a God. I don't figure they really have things like male or female. Just ideas." And then he reaches out, flicks his fingers through where the energy should be. It floats across him, and Lambert pauses, then he takes out his flask of mead. The satyr has a quick nip to take some off the top, and dips it in the water below, refilling the tablespoon or two "Hopefully alcohol will steralise it," he says "Shall we be back?"

"Sure. I don't like the idea of leaving anyone alone where spirits are concerned. Even if that anyone is Strange." Splitting up never works anyway! And Dani would be upset with her for even allowing such a thing. "I don't know.. I've had a lot of fun without being drunk." Not huge on alcohol, this one. Not against it either, but she learned moderation very quickly. "You think Strange is still at the entrance?"

Lambert screws the bottle top on "Sure," he says to Amanda brightly "He wouldn't leave without making sure people were safe, I'm pretty sure. He seems weird, but he's nice. So let's head on back. Oh, no, sometime you should try the alcohol, _I_ brew. It's fantastic." He pauses "Not that I. Brew. Because that would be illegal! And I don't do illegal things. Arhm. Let's go!" And he heads on out.

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