[open] I've found that just surviving was a noble fight

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't really have any particular agenda for the day. In between cases, no clients on the book for the afternoon, he finds himself with free time and well. He's never really much cared for the idea of such a thing. Mostly perhaps because he doesn't really know much what to do with himself when it happens. Not really having that many hobbies, not really much for staying idle, he finds himself wandering. Coffee at this shop, breakfast at another. Finding a seat to sit and enjoy both before wandering more. Idly staring in shop windows. Finding himself lunch. He supposes that this is time that people who had friends might call some of them up and get together to do something, but that would require having any, a luxury he had not been afforded. Not since moving to London, at least. Besides all of that, these last few days especially he's been feeling rather odd...

A. COFFEE
Being a man with a varying schedule, often pulling late-nights, Faolan has developed a particular affinity for coffee. Another man might call it a caffeine addiction, but that is perhaps neither here nor there, and anyway, he really only ever indulges in the coffee version of the drug. Which is why he finds himself seated in a shop early that morning, a mug of it clutched in both hands as he sits at the counter by the window and stares out the window at the passers-by. He might not have normally chosen this seat. There are occasions where he'd rather opt for a table by himself in the corner, where he can pull out his tablet and get some work done. But there's something about today where he feels compelled to watch. Feels compelled to sit there and observe, poised silent and still on the stool as he surveys the people on the street in front of him. There's a tension in the way he's holding himself, and if he didn't pause every once and a while to take a sip from the coffee, it would probably be a little painful to watch him at it. It's probably a little painful still.

He knows what he's doing, so after a while, he forces his eyes away. And that's when he spots it. A fly. It must have come in the shop with one of the other patrons. The place is nice and clean enough, he doesn't think that they're likely to have an infestation, especially since he's seen only the one. But now all of his attentions are focused on it, and try as hard as he might to just sit and enjoy his coffee, he can hear it. Buzzing around, doing its dirty fly business god knows where. He manages maybe five minutes of valiant efforts to keep his mind away, before he gives up and rolls up the paper he has sitting in front of him. That fly is dead.

B. PARK
Faolan sits on a bench in the park, nursing his second coffee of the day, this one in a cardboard cup. He's been trying to relax and enjoy the quite, natural atmosphere around him, something that usually works to soothe his ragged temper. Today, on the other hand, he's having no such luck. Too many sounds keep happening around him. People passing by. Walking their dogs. Going out for a jog. Taking a quiet stroll with their children. And it's distracting him. He finds himself honing in on every conversation being had, every laugh, every sound being made by the noisy life around him.

And that's nothing compared to the distraction that the nature itself is causing him. He finds himself fixating on a squirrel across the way, staring it down until the small, bushy-tailed creature gives up the contest and absconds itself into the nearest tree, where he can still hear it, scuttling around up there. And that's nothing compared to the duck that keeps leisurely swimming by, expecting him to have some sort of treat for it as apparently all visitors to this spot must have had in the past. As the web-footed creature circles closer and closer, Faolan finds himself wishing for a stone to throw at it. Or perhaps his gun. No, what is he kidding, that's crazy. He sits forward on the bench and runs his hand over his face. Maybe the whole park thing was a bad idea after all...

C. BAR
It's been a long day, from start to finish, and since no amount of coffee, fresh air, or sunshine has done anything to cure Faolan's odd mood, there's only one more direction that he can turn. Well, there are probably more, but since he's not looking to break any laws tonight, that means alcohol. It means getting himself a drink or three or as many as it takes until whatever it is that's wound so tight within him settles down and allows him a moment's peace.

He should have known that the sort of slow burning fury building within him had no business mixing with drink, but that's neither here nor there, and it isn't until he left to go take a piss and comes back to find the seat he was in otherwise occupied that he realizes he has a problem. Because that something within him is just as raring to go as ever. And rather than calming that, if anything the only thing the alcohol has calmed is his sense of reason, which is not good. Fists clenched tight at his sides, Faolan doesn't really make all that menacing of an image. Not at first glance. But the sound of his voice clearly means business as he manages to grind out at the newcomer, "That seat's taken."

D. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

[ooc note: this log takes place during the HUNTING SEASON event, and as such is loosely dated between the 20th and the 25th! faolan is a human and a hunter in the hillingdon clan, and if you want to get into trouble with him of a supernatural, hunting sort, by all means choose your own adventure or contact me and we can work something out. THANKS!]

Comments

[rules_winter]

Her eyes are drawn back to him. "I understand there are games with paint guns now?" All the satisfaction of a hunt, none of the blood and gore. And humans could be great game. "And catch and release hunting." Of which there was very little point in her opinion if her expression was anything to go by. "And though less satisfying, simply running can assist. Any of the baser needs being met can help, breaking things, having sex, bar fighting, racing." She lists them off with slow thoughtfulness. "Not all will get rid of the urge completely but many will make it bearable."

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't know what's wrong with him. He doesn't know whether there really is something about her that should make him uneasy, on edge, or whether it's just the nature of how he has been feeling for the last while that is doing that for him. He had hardly thought that paintball would be the first suggestion out of her mouth. Hell, he hardly understands why she's suggesting such things to him in the first place. And the larger question of course, remains...

"How do you know about any of this?" he asks her, bluntly. The hunt, the desires, everything. (He certainly doesn't mean the paintball, that's for certain.)

[rules_winter]

The poor man has good instincts. Most people should be concerned when Mab shows an interest so his instincts aren't leading him wrong. But Mab doesn't go around making it clear that she is dangerous. She's just always a little off. She hasn't spent enough time among humans to fit in easily, she doesn't have enough expression, her mannerisms are older. She may have finally discovered google no thanks to purchasing a horribly outdated phone so she does know about things like paintball. Mostly though, she's just a little amused to see a human so affected by the hunt that he looks a little like he'd enjoy grabbing and throttling the duck that circles warily farther out on the water now.

His insistence on more clarification than book knowledge does change her expression though. Rudeness, trying to force an answer out of her. Her lips thin in irritation. The fae do not like being cornered into answers. So she answers without giving him the answer he obviously wants. "Because I have felt many of the same urges." And that is the truth. The fae who join the hunt have a heightened bloodlust during the hunt and it seeps over even when they're not actively chasing down their quarry. It explains why she might have looked some things up. "Surely curiosity has driven you to find answers before?" And carefully redirecting questions meant she could mislead all she needed to.

[reticence]

"Curiosity has driven me to a lot of things," Faolan retorts, carefully. "Not all of them good." He's getting the feeling from her, that sense of her being off, although he can't understand why. Really, if he'd dealt with more Fae, he would have understood in a heartbeat, but hunters do not often deal with the fae in such ways. Not this hunter, anyway. They have their own courts, their own rules, their own dealings, and Faolan is... An outsider frankly. Though he's learning. Learning enough not to have asked her straight out what she is. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. He doesn't want to know what will happen to him.

"Is that what has driven you here, to me?" he posits aloud, glancing sideways at her. "Curiosity?" He cannot imagine why else she would have chosen to join him. Although he imagines he has an idea as to why she's stayed.

[rules_winter]

She waves a hand dismissively. "Good and bad, people are always so worried about these things. Actions simply are. Morality changes over time." It hadn't been so very long ago that humans found it perfectly moral to own other people. In some countries it was still thus. Mab had vassals of her own, and considered the fair trades that had put them there perfectly normal. Most of them even seemed to like it in their own way.

She considers the question for a moment. "I imagine so." She finally decided, patting her package. "Though I did plan to sit for a moment and peruse my find." She turned her face back to him again, "Did you realize that you had driven away most others. They could sense something in you." She glanced around as though to show him that this section of the park was almost empty, a few people were picnicking in the distance but most of the animals and mortals were giving him wide berth, choosing other paths, almost unintentionally sensing this part of the park might be dangerous. It had likely happened slowly enough as people had been passing much closer less than ten minutes ago, but slowly the path had grown quieter and quieter. Mab, with better senses could almost feel the desire for violence in him battered down by his own determination.

Yes curiosity had definitely brought her to him, though she would have been in the park for a while either way.

[reticence]

Faolan looks up and glances around, not having realized as much, no. Not until she'd pointed it out, certainly. Once she had, however, it's hard to miss. And even harder to think of how he might stop such a thing. Perhaps he should go home. Perhaps he has spent long enough disturbing the peace of the outdoors. But shut in the four walls of his flat, he feels like he really might kill something.

He doesn't miss her usage of the word 'humans' again. A curious choice of phrasing, as if she is putting herself outside of it. He's getting that vibe off of her, and though he can't put his finger on what she is, he at least understands that she is Other. What with the way she talks and acts, she can't not be. Something about the fact that she mentions the package brings his attention back on it, and he glances back at her, at the package in question, then back up again. Is he going to like what this is? Is he going to regret this question...

"Your find...?" he asks.

[rules_winter]

Technically she'd used the words 'people' and 'others'. But she certainly did have a long view of morality. His heightened senses aren't helping him in the paranoia department. But then again, it was probably how he'd survived his teens. She just raised a brow at him as he looked at her, uncomfortably.

"Mmm, yes." She pulled her bag up and took a book out of the paper packaging, fingers running over the old leather cover almost reverently. It was in German so unless he spoke the language it wouldn't tell him anything about it aside from the picture of trees embossed on the cover in faded gold leaf with the words "Das Märchen von der Schwarzwald; der Nekromant" across the title area. "This was written in 1794. It was quite a find. There was a more recent translation by an Englishman but he did a poor job and had an agenda of his own." She tilted the book so he could see it a little better. "I will have to do some preserving before I can really spend quality time with it." She shrugged. It did not mean she wouldn't spend a moment appreciating the book.

wow PLEASE EXCUSE MY FAILURE IN READING COMPREHENSION

[reticence]

It was certainly how he'd survived, after his family had been slaughtered before him, that was for certain. And how he'd made it this long as a hunter as well. It isn't generally a very long-lived career, as his parents had tragically proved.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been a book. He doesn't speak German, but he does recognize one word in the title, enough to have him further questioning who and what she is. "Can you speak German then?" he asks, trying to keep his nerves from being too much on edge -- and focusing on her otherness is not helping anyone in that regard.

Haha, no problem I re-read it like three times to make sure

[rules_winter]

She can almost see his surprise when he sees a book. He hides it well though. And he just seems more wary now that he's seen it. "Ich las es besser, als ich es zu sprechen. I am rather better at reading it than speaking." Though you wouldn't know by listening.

"It is presumably fiction, though some in the mystic communities believe it was a basis for Kemmler's research during the great wars." Kemmler had been horrifyingly effective necromancer though mostly only witches and other supernatural creatures were even aware of him. "Many of the works were destroyed by the Church. I was quite pleased to find a surviving copy."

Her hand slid across the leather almost like the touch of a lover as she looked down at it. When she looked back up at him she seemed to blush though not much color entered her cheeks. "Well, I have gone on a bit haven't I? I don't imagine it holds much interest outside of my contacts at Oxford."

orz

[reticence]

It's interesting, to hear her go on like this. Even if it's true, he doesn't quite have the same appreciation for books that she does. (He certainly doesn't go about stroking their bindings with a touch like that, at any rate.)

"Contacts at Oxford," Faolan repeats, raising his eyebrows slightly. It certainly sounds impressive, at any rate. Maybe he'll be able to hold a decent conversation with such a person when he's not feeling like crawling out of his skin. Maybe not. He's always been pretty naturally suspicious, and she seems to enjoy her teasing. "You're...in academics?"

If Faolan were more socially conscious he might realize that he hasn't even asked her name yet. Or offered his own. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily as the case may be, he's not at all.

[rules_winter]

Mab definitely covets some of her things. Especially the hard to find ones. Her head tilts a little at his question. "Mmm, no. I simply have a thirst for knowledge. Consider it a ... hobby." That's the right word isn't it? The more you know, the easier it is to get what you want.

The glamoured blush has disappeared and she pushes some of her hair back over her shoulder. Her contacts in Oxford were really one harried professor of mythology whom she'd traded a very rare book for a favor owed, and a young professor of ancient languages who thought she was a coed at the school.

[reticence]

Something tells Faolan that knowledge isn't the only thing that the woman has a thirst for, though he's not about to come right out and say as much to her. She has let on that she's affected by the Hunt as well, after all, and she's let on enough for him to get a definite impression of Other about her. He knows enough not to push her from there. At least, he hopes that he does.

"If knowledge is a hobby, then what do you do for a living?" Faolan asks, raising an eyebrow at her. "To be able to acquire such rare finds as you say that is." He's certainly not splurging any spare cash on rare books himself, in his job as a Private Investigator. Not that that's what he'd be spending it on in the first place, but that's neither here nor there.

[rules_winter]

It certainly takes one to know one. And a predator can almost always sense one of it's own kind. The affinity to the hunt is just the nail in the coffin of discovery. She looks back at him considering. Do for a living. Well she was independently wealthy, anything that lived for any decent amount of time could accrue wealth. And she did not have a job aside from being the Lady of Air and Darkness.

"I am blessed with not having to work to survive." She finally responded. "But I dabble in politics among other things." Which was horrifically true. Politics in the fae realm could be rather cutthroat. And she could do anything from healing to destruction. "And you?"

[reticence]

Faolan frowns at her, although whether it's because he hasn't gotten a straight answer or because she has basically admitted to something which he can only dream of -- being blessed with enough money to never have to worry about anything -- he cannot say for certain. (Though the truth is it is perhaps a little bit of both.)

"This and that," Faolan says, shifting slightly on the bench. "Some of us have to do a lot more than 'dabble' to make ends meet." Bitter? Who, him? Not at all. He's only lived on the streets a handful of times, that's all. Is it a cryptic answer? Hell yes. But glass houses, and all that.

[rules_winter]

Well, someone was feeling jealousy. Mab smiled a little at that and moved to touch his arm for a moment in a soothing gesture. She had given him more than he'd given her, the touchy man. "I think, perhaps, my child might have fared better had she needed to make ends meet." Her expression went a little... not quite sad but remote after giving him that much. It was more than she really ought to have given him but he was interesting and she didn't want him stomping away just yet. She might regret it, but then if he made her regret it, so would he.

"I have offended you, but the answer was truthful." She looked at him almost as though trying to determine if he'd have preferred a lie. Not that she could give one but she could have avoided mentioning that she didn't have to struggle for money. To survive in the fae realm though? That might be a different story.

[reticence]

Child? Faolan frowns slightly at that. But he understands that whatever she's given him, though he doesn't fully understand the weight of it, it's a lot to be telling a stranger on a park bench. He shakes his head slightly, taking a deep breath in and letting it out his nose.

"Forgive me," he says. "It's not your fault, nor you yourself that makes me angry. It's..." He waves his hand in front of him vaguely. "Whatever this is. It makes it difficult to control my emotions. Especially anger. And the subject of money is..." He shrugs slightly. "Some of us are not so lucky, is all. I'm sorry, though. If I have offended you." And for your daughter, he wants to say, but he's not certain of the story there, and he's not certain he has any right to ask, considering they have not even exchanged names yet.

[rules_winter]

She did look young to have a child. But she could be anywhere in her late twenties through her thirties, her age was hard to pinpoint. She let her hand fall from his arm as he lifted his hand to wave and her head dipped acknowledging his apology.

"No offense taken." He'd know if he offended her. But he couldn't know that yet. She turned her head to look at him. She certainly did know what it was that had him so on edge. But the reaction to her money had also been... useful. It is probably good he hasn't yet told her what he does or she would have offered to hire him. That would have come across as more pity than she'd really intend but she wasn't yet used to deal with people after her long separation from humanity.

"Is your situation dire?" She asked not that he'd tell her in his current state but he was definitely on edge about money.

[reticence]

Faolan frowns at her phrasing. "I don't know if you'd call it dire," he explains, tightly. "It is what it is, and I've learned to make do with it. Some months are tighter than others." These last few have been tighter than most, but it gets to be like that in the summer, he supposes. When people would rather spend their extra money on going somewhere tropical than on ridding themselves of unwanted problems, as it were.

"It's nothing that I haven't made it through before," he says, and if he sounds a little defensive, it's because he is, slightly. Just the nature of the game. Money is tight, and the subject of it will always be a little bit touchy. He doesn't want to be anyone's charity case, though, so perhaps it's for the best that she isn't hiring him just yet, and coming across as such.

[rules_winter]

It sounded rather normal when he put it that way. Her witch in Chicago was much the same. Often taking jobs he wouldn't like to just to make ends meet. But he managed somehow. "I see." She settled her hands in her lap and nodded as though it made sense. Though she was still trying to decide if he was jealous of her money, embarrassed at his lack, or angry that it was being discussed at all. Perhaps it was a combination.

It was, though, likely adding to his drive to violence aided by the hunt now that they'd found themselves on the subject. "It is reassuring to hear that it isn't dire." She decided that was the safest response at the moment.

[reticence]

It's honestly perhaps a combination thereof. How can one be embarrassed by one's lack of something and not be jealous of another with an apparent abundance of it? But that is neither here nor there. It's not her fault, after all. Not that he's in the situation he is, at any rate. He certainly shouldn't be taking his problems out on her.

Although it's certainly embarrassing to hear it phrased like that, for sure. He bristles slightly, glancing sideways at her and straightening in his seat on the bench. "I've got it under control," he says, which may or may not be a lie, but that's neither here nor there, all things considered. He raises his coffee stiffly, taking a sip from it and frowning as he realizes it's cooled a little too much for his tastes. "Well. You've. Probably got better things to be doing than entertaining the likes of me." He moves to stand, glancing down at her as he does. "Enjoy the book, yeah? If. It's the sort of thing to be enjoying, that is."

[rules_winter]

She just smiles a little as he assures her he has it under control. There is no way to bring that to a close without upsetting him more. She suspects it might be close to dire though since he's reacting so strongly to it.

Her gaze lifts as he stands. "I do believe I will enjoy the book thoroughly." She agreed. "I hope that you find an outlet for your tension." She dips her head a little like a cursory bow of dismissal.

[reticence]

It is rather close to dire. He's taking on jobs he'd normally turn down, otherwise. Jobs that don't pay nearly as well as they should to try and make ends meet. The thought had even crossed his mind that maybe he should take up a day job, like. Waiting tables, before he quickly talked himself out of that one. But she doesn't need to know about that.

His eyebrows raise slightly at her final words there, but he gets the feeling that however oddly phrased it is, she means it, in her own way. At least, he hopes that she does. He's just going to keep on believing it anyway. "Yeah, thanks." He raises his coffee to her in something of a salute. "I've got a seat at a bar with my name on it this evening, I think. If drinking doesn't help, maybe ending up in a pub brawl will."

"See you around then," he says, not quite meaning it but feeling in some odd way as though he might be running into her again anyway. The world works in mysterious ways, after all...