B1, Day 2 [public channel]

[whattaprick]

[ There are a lot of things people need to do right now: help the Prince's servants get resettled, get started on figuring out who can work on a cure for the petrification, deal with the trauma of dying in a hopefully healthy and non-self-destructive way, show the new people the ropes of what the Carnival has to work with.

Instead, in the morning of the second day since the Prince was defeated, anyone on the radio gets this: ]

So, I've been wondering.

[ The Nightrider's voice, for those who recognize it, has definitely been better. It's a low, hoarse rasp, and the pause at the end is not just for effect, but to actually catch his breath. ]

Just how old is everyone here, anyway? Here, I'll start. I'm ... pretty sure I'm almost sixty. [ A beat. ] ... Maybe.

[ Why did anyone let this man have his radio back again? ]

[ ooc; Lambert's flat on his back in the medical tent for this, feel free to bug him in person and threadjack each other at will. ]

Comments

[sunflowerfields]

You should be resting.

[You can almost hear the hands on her hips.]

[whattaprick]

I am resting.

[ He is, in fact, flat on his back in the medical tent. He tried walking earlier, and it ended poorly, so grumpily consigned to bed rest it is. ]

[kingsroads]

Go back to bed. You're obviously still poisoned as you certainly aren't old enough to be my father.

[ starting off the post with dignity from all ends, it seems. ]

[whattaprick]

No, he really is that old.

[ Surprise surprise, there's a familiar voice, stifling a yawn. If Strange had been by the medical tent the first day, Celandine wasn't there, but apparently Lambert's well enough to flex a little magical muscle, if not actual muscle right now. ]

You're right, though. He's really pretty poisoned.

[ A disparaging noise, from somewhere behind her. This is what he gets making his daemon fiddle with his radio and respond for him: betrayal. ]

[dressedtothe]

[Really?]

Less than three.

[The best thing about that answer is that it could mean three years or three months and they are both correct.]

...It's good to hear you're back.

[NO SARCASM WHATSOEVER.]

[whattaprick]

Three what?

[ Of course he'd want to know. And his daemon picks up seamlessly: ]

Can't keep a bad man down for long, you know.

[pullingamiko]

Sixteen! Are you sure you should be talkin' right now?

[The second part, of course, said no less cheerily than the first.]

[whattaprick]

Being bored slows down recovery.

[ It's a scientifically proven fact. ]

[dontpokethat]

Probably somewhere in my thirties, that's all I've got for sure.

[And since he is in the medical tent right now, that is said into his radio while also looking directly and pointedly at Lambert. Go to bed.]

[scientificist]

Why does it matter.

[Herbert's been in and out of the medical tent all day for. Various reasons. Right now he's in there being a slightly terrible medic by completely ignoring all of his patients to examine a sample of petrified 'skin' under a microscope.

Completely ignoring them except to snipe at their dumb comments into the radio, obviously.]

[atouts]

[ Lambert... ]

I have to agree with Mr. Strange.

[ Because stating the same 'go back to sleep' and 'you aren't that old' a second (or third or fourth time) isn't happening over here. ]

[whattaprick]

Which part?

[ Being specific is good, you know. Don't make the man in recovery think. ]

[chronosynthesis]

I am five years now. [It's so much easier to count when he doesn't have to try and measure the seasons, too. Five is plenty old enough to stick just to the years.

And he won't tell Lambert to go back to bed, because he's pretty sure he is and talking to a radio isn't particularly laborous anyway. It's probably better to entertain him this way versus letting him get bored enough to wander off.]

You've lost track of your age?

[kingsroads]

Oh God. [ And here Strange sounds like he's going to vomit. ] I'm old enough to be your father.

[brightspot]

Sixteen.

[She thinks, anyway. She doesn't know when her birthday is. Someone else told her what age she was, and she's assuming they got it from some official record.]

Is there a reason why you want to know? Or why it matters?

[This is not said sharply, but cautiously, as being underestimated for her age is like a regular occurrence for her. Also he may be a stranger but he also doesn't sound so good, so there may be a note of concern in there too.]

[whattaprick]

[ A new voice, and one he doesn't recognize. Must be one of the strays the carnival picked up; he's heard there were a few of those. However, since this is a longer answer, it won't be his voice but a softer, tired-sounding female one that answers: ]

Some people here aren't as old as they look, like us. We just wanted to know how many of us there are.

[puddingemote]

You really are a grandpa, Lam-san...

[He's not going to bother telling him to sleep since everyone else is.]

[whattaprick]

Well, since Lambert can't have babies, Butcher's the only grandchild he'll ever have. [ Celandine answers, solemnly. She doesn't sound as shitty as Lambert, but she's somehow a bit worn out. And because it is Celandine, she'll go right on and say: ]

You sound like you made it out all right.

[wild_magic]

[It's probably a terrible idea, but the brothers went back to their trailer rather than stay in the medical tent. Susan's been in and out of sleep himself, but right now he's also awake and bored so he might as well answer.]

I'm thirteen now. Are you really that old?

[whattaprick]

I am, jailbird. [ If he could have his preference, Lambert would prefer to be having his recovery in his own trailer, but turns out it's harder to get away with that when so much of you is obviously petrified. Still, his daemon will pick up where his voice gives out: ]

It's because of the magic that changed him.

[stillwinningthehardway]

Drink your water, Lambert.

[She's in and out of the med tent fairly often.]

I know I've already told you before, but that was a few months ago. Uh... hang on, how long are years here again?

[whattaprick]

I'm making sure he is. [ Celandine answers, helpfully. At the question, though, she has to mull it over... ]

Here in the Carnival, or back home?

[hippocarnival]

Are you bored...? [He's probably bored. Yuya definitely remembers being bored when he was stuck on bedrest.

Yuya sounds like he's seen better days himself, but in honesty it's a relief to here Lambert on the radio sounding, well... alive. And like himself. Like if he can ask a stupid question, he hasn't been so hurt by what happened that he won't recover.]

I'm fourteen.

[whattaprick]

[ Yuya's probably more right than he knows, both about Lambert's motivations for asking and how this is as much proving he's alive to himself as other people, but it's not something the Nightrider would ever take kindly to having pointed out. Meaning what that question will get is an evasive: ]

It's as good a way to pass the time as any, isn't it? [ A pause for consideration... ] So you're the same age as Gongenzaka.

[ Yuya is absolutely not imagining the slight skepticism in her voice there. ]

[anti_nonsense]

Hmph. You sound like hell, gramps.

[So does Rita, actually. Her voice is weak and hoarse and cracks even as she tries to comment on his.]

... I'm fifteen, if anyone was wondering.

[whattaprick]

Not much better yourself, missy.

[ Shitty voice buddies got to stick together, right? Though Lambert has an advantage Rita doesn't, which is someone else to talk to him: ]

Really fifteen? You don't just look like it?

[tacosgay]

Abooouuut... carry the two...

... 225... ish? Things got a little fast and loose time-wise for a while there.

[whattaprick]

That's young for an elf, isn't it? [ Celandine chirps, before she pauses and prods, more thoughtfully: ]

What do you mean?

[soft_focus]

...I don't know, but...

....A lot of people said 7? [IT'S A MYSTERY.]

[whattaprick]

You know, we thought you were the youngest here the first time we heard that. Looks like you aren't.

Still not eighteen, though. [ If you're gonna try that again try to lie more convincingly! ]

[periphrasing]

Wow. Organics find the weirdest things to swap stats on.

[You did know it was only a matter of time before one of those jerk immortal rock aliens came in and started being all smug up in this conversation, didn't you, Lambert?]

Is 60 old for a human? Witcher? Eh. Whatever you are? Gems kind of stop keeping track after the first few thousand.

[kingsroads]

I thought you were younger than me!

[ HOW IS HE JUST NOW LEARNING THAT ALL THE NONHUMANS HERE COUNT TIME IN WEIRD WAYS ]

[destiny_key]

[They're in the same room, Sora doesn't even need the radio to talk. But he's a few cots down and he doesn't feel like getting out of bed, so radio it is. Lambert can probably hear an echo.]

If it makes you feel better, you don't look sixty.

[whattaprick]

[ Hell yeah he's gonna use his radio to talk, because he can't raise his voice. Annoying as that is. ]

Thanks. Guess I'd like to think I'm well-preserved.

[motivenotfound]

[What, really?

Mari just responds with a really, really long raspberry.

Bad question. Boring.]

[whattaprick]

So either an old fart, or as old as a fart. Got it.

[wilt]

Oh, boy. That would take a lot of math. Resetting the game and all.

-- Let's just say I'm younger than I look? Or older, depending on your perspective.

[ This means nothing over the radio, does it... ]

[whattaprick]

We don't know what you look like, so that's no help.

[ Also, way to be obtuse, Flowey... ]

[spaghettimonster]

I'm in my twenties! It's easier with me than Sans or Flowey. I don't count that timeloop stuff, because I don't remember it.

[It's only been a day, and he's still delighted to be able to say his brother's name again.]

[whattaprick]

[ It's good to hear it, too. ]

I guess that would make it hard to count, wouldn't it?

[drrdrrdrr]

Like five thousand years... give or take a couple hundred, I dunno.

[whattaprick]

Do anything interesting in all that time?

[dorkypantsuit]

Why does everyone care so much about age anyway?!

I'm considered an adult by troll standards, that is all that matters.

[whattaprick]

Why are you so worked up?

[mirrortide]

Stopped bothering to count after 6,000. Older than Peridot, Amethyst and... Jasper.

[And two of those three were losers made on earth.]

[whattaprick]

Huh. [ That's it, just 'huh.' ]

So gems could outlive everyone in this carnival, huh?

non-radio

[espigeon]

[Julien's hanging out elsewhere in the tent feeling like he shouldn't get to join in the fun, but he still overhears things and splutters with surprise hearing talk about Gon and Steven.]

They're the same age and that's fourteen? What the fuck.

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert shrugs, but he can't speak loud enough to be sure his voice will carry effectively, so Celandine steps in for him: ]

Genetics and a healthy diet make a difference, I suppose.

[stompadour]

5,500. Is this important?

presumably this is getting answered before ALL THAT up there

[whattaprick]

[ Ah. Now that ... is a voice Lambert recognizes, all too well. There's a pause before Celandine responds, falsely bright: ]

Age doesn't really mean anything here, so not really. Just satisfying curiosity.