Croydon territory claim

[detectiveofthewest]

Likely Circle Daybreak had been anticipating a clash with the fae ever since they'd first appeared in London in force: it was only, as they said, a matter of time. Yet that anticipation had the potential to work to either side's benefit. The Daybreak witches would be prepared, true, but they wouldn't know the exact time of the offensive. And if they failed to protect their territory despite the forewarning, the blow could be a significant one.

The name of the fae's strategy this evening was guile, reflecting the personalities of the fae organizing the effort -- they took advantage of blind spots and bottlenecks, staged decoy attacks, made use of illusion magic and fae glamour to pit unprepared witches against each other. These attacks were designed to bring about a swift end, minimizing casualties on both sides. Whether this would be a successful strategy or not would reveal itself soon enough...

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Helping Daybreak witches

[brightwitch]

Soon it became clear that the only thing they could do was help the Croydon witches flee. Some were injured, others lost, and still others had fought and fallen.

In a closed café, Sylvia knelt down by a witch weeping over the body of her sister. Here the cruelty of their enemy became apparent: the fae had crafted their illusions to make friend appear as foe, and so the witch had struck down her sister herself. Not only was she mourning her sister's loss, she also had to live with the guilt of killing her.

The witch, whose name was Mary, rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably. "This is my fault... my fault..."

Sylvia embraced her, soothing her as best she could, and blinked tears out of her eyes as she looked up at the others.

"We need to move. I won't leave anyone behind, and that includes the deceased." She addressed the nearest person by name. "Check outside. I want a clear escape route."

[knightscode]

Lancelot nods understanding, brow furrowed in concern from having watched the exchange. He has done the best he could, but Lancelot has no ability to break illusions. Has no magic to cast, only has the small blessing that he feels like Seelie magic so some have avoided him.

Even then, that has equally lead some witches to suspect him. Such things are double-edged blades in a battle of this sort.

He pushes to his feet to approach the door, opening it cautiously before slipping out. The chaos is still ongoing, if waning now. Daybreak is being driven back, and Lancelot feels heavy with guilt that he couldn't do more. He has only just become a part of this world and already he tastes the bitter failure of being overwhelmed. It reminds him far too heavily of how it felt as a child, even if the memory is foggy and distant.

His focus now, though, is getting these people to safety. His eyes skim along the street and he mentally begins to map a way out. After a few seconds he ducks back in, moved to crouch beside Mary and places a reassuring hand on one of her arms -- eyes still studying Sylvia. The question is a silent one, one he thinks she can understand. Will she pull together? Will she come? Mary's emotions are understandable, but people that deep in grief are not focused and move slowly -- if they deign to move at all.

"Things are quieter for now," he murmurs, "if we stay off the main roads we stand a chance. If --" His eyes dart down to the body, then back up as he adjusts his wording. "If you want to bring everyone," he says carefully, "that limits our transport options."

[brightwitch]

"We leave no one behind," Sylvia replies firmly, for while Mary's grief has her falling apart, there's zero chance that she'll move without her sister. "The emergency services won't come. Gather up the fallen. We'll take them in Chris's van."

They've tried calling an ambulance, but in a supernatural fracas it's risky to get the human authorities involved, and no ambulance has come. Mobile phones have short-circuited, witches they thought were right behind them have gone missing. The fae are masters of confusion.

Chris is another meta human drafted in to help, and while Sylvia gets up and pulls Mary to her feet, he moves to help the other injured witches.

"We're leaving now," Sylvia calls, glancing back to make sure that the others will follow. Mary is clinging to her shoulder. Someone else will need to carry her sister's body. They don't have time to wait.

[knightscode]

He nods in silent acceptance, glances back at Chris and the others before sliding to kneel and gathering up the body of Mary's sister in his arms. Someone has to, after all, and Lancelot may not be used to carrying dead bodies but he's used to seeing them.

Not that it ever really numbs the pain of it. She didn't deserve to die, especially not by her sister's hand thanks to fae trickery. He secures his arms around her, takes a deep breath and moves to stand by the door. He can't open it with both hands holding the body, so he slides his eyes around the others as he waits.

"Ready?" he prompts softly. Or as ready as they can be, he supposes.

[brightwitch]

"Quickly," Sylvia urges them.

She's especially concerned about the body. Getting away from the fae is one thing, but they can't afford to be held up by human witnesses either. They need to go quickly, quietly and most of all unnoticed.

Outside, across the road where a nondescript black van awaits. Chris opens the back doors, the dead are smuggled in. It's like they're the ones covering up a murder. Not how she would have liked to do this, but they don't have much choice.

Once on the road, things are easier. The confusion in the air has cleared, but there's a sense of numbness about them. They're fleeing for their lives. Witches who have lived here for generations, who were once so comfortable and settled. None of them expected this, not even after the first rumblings of increased fae activity in the neighbouring boroughs.

Sylvia spends part of the journey in silence, staring out of the window. Finally, she runs a hand through her curls, fingers tightening on her scalp, and glances sideways at Lancelot.

"This changes things."

[knightscode]

It's a strange place to be in, for Lancelot. He feels like an outsider, like he shouldn't be here. Not only is he not a witch, but he radiates fae magic -- and the people he is helping have just been ruined by the fae themselves. He's almost waiting to be turned out, as a potential spy, as a symbol of everything they dislike.

Yet he isn't. They sit in numb silence, fleeing their homes while most of London remains unaware of the vicious wars going on under its surface. Months ago he had been unaware himself, and for a moment he almost misses that. Misses when things had been simpler.

He's here, though, and if he'll be allowed to help he will.

Sylvia's voice breaks the silence and Lancelot glances sideways at her, assessing cautiously. He's unsure of their boundaries, of how he should treat her. She's an employer, in a way, but equally she is a person. Someone grieving, in pain.. After a second he holds out a hand to her, palm up, if she wishes to take it. He can offer her that much stability, at least.

"Do you think they'll hit us again?" he asks quietly, eyes flitting around as he does. It's pitched low enough to be just for her, he does not want to incite panic, but it's an important question. If the fae truly wish to go to war, after all, they need to be ready.

[brightwitch]

Sylvia smiles at him, appreciating the sympathy, but she gives a small shake of her head. It is her job to comfort, not to be comforted. The people here are relying on her and she won't let them down or show weakness.

"They may," she answers, leaning back in her seat. There's no reason to suppose that they won't. The taste of victory is always encouraging. "We'll prepare for the worst."

They'll regroup, mourn their dead, improve their defences. They'll know soon enough whether the fae intend to make another move.

[knightscode]

He nods in understand, touches her arm slightly before withdrawing his hand and lacing them together. Studying her as he listens. Preparing for the worst makes sense, but it's also difficult to accept. Daybreak had felt so stable, the blow of being struck so suddenly and so hard is one that will surely be felt worse still be people who have been members longer than him.

"I know I am not... a witch myself, that I am new, but... if there is anything I can do to help -- please, you need only ask."

Lancelot drops his eyes away for a moment, studies the rest of the van before looking up at her again.

"We can come back from this. I know we can."

[brightwitch]

She nods. This is good, exactly the kind of dedication and positivity that they need. Sylvia has always believed that their strength comes from community, from having each other's backs. She knows that Lancelot will do whatever he can to help them.

"Thank you."

It's a brief, softly-spoken response, but sincerely meant. Despite their loss, Lancelot has proven himself a worthy ally today.

[knightscode]

"You need not thank me. Is it not my job to be an ally and guardian?"

Lancelot tilts his head slightly, offers her a small smile before turning his eyes back over the van. Mind working through options. Pragmatism is what is needed now, practical and useful ideas that can help. Things to keep them moving forward so they do not dwell on all this pain.

"It is my... understanding that Daybreak territory is sealed so doors to the other realm cannot be opened. Fae already here can walk in it but... doors cannot be opened to let in new fae. Border territories are probably our concern. If you will give me leave to I will happily see to helping strengthening our boundaries, making sure we are alert for activity."

[brightwitch]

It is his job, of course, but still there's nothing wrong with praising loyalty. And initiative too. Sylvia nods approvingly.

"Good idea. The most dangerous territory will certainly be along the border, and I don't doubt that the fae will try to break the spell. It may hold until the next full moon... We can't hope for longer than that."