undergrounds | You warm by the firelight

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You warm by the firelight

Date: 23rd~28th of September
Plot: Missing Hunter
Areas: Westminster, Bromley, Various in between

A hunter has gone missing. They were last seen almost a month ago, travelling to the outskirts of London to hunt down a werewolf. With the Blood Moon approaching he hoped to track down his prey and take it out easily at the peak when it had no powers. However, things went a little awry. The werewolf he was tracking cut through Bromley, now Fae territory, and ended up in deeper water than anticipated. A Fae summoned during the ebbing rebalance of power has caused a little trouble, and it may take a while to untangle.

[ ooc; log for the missing hunter plot! You can give me a ping if you want to be involved and hadn't signed up already! It runs 23rd of September through the Blood Moon! Headers within for areas/dates. ]

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Lancelot has helped Faolan out a few times now, so he isn't surprised to be approached again.

This, however, is a little different.

This, if he's getting a read on it right, is at least a little personal. Faolan is Hillingdon, after all, so the missing man -- well, he isn't entirely a stranger. Lancelot flicks through the file absently, begins to study the information -- make up a picture in his head of events leading up to the disappearance. The hunter in question, the wolf he was after, how high a chance there might be that things could have gone badly gone.

"Last seen south of the river," he says, and sets down the file to point at the report before lifting his eyes to Faolan again. "If he's heading into fae territory there's a chance he got caught in either the Croydon dispute or the Lewisham one, depending. Even if he didn't, I wouldn't be surprised if fae were part of his problem."

There are several parts to the puzzle, and Lancelot knows that even the smallest bit of information could be the key to the whole thing.

Matt Lloyd had last been seen travelling south of the river in search of a werewolf fleeing the pack troubles after their alpha's disappearance. It makes sense on the one hand, not wanting to be in the middle of it all during a blood moon. Hoping to lay low. On the other hand, why this way? Had it had a reason to come south into fae territory? Had it been a coincidence? For that matter, where was the wolf now?

The territories are bustling with regular humans as well as a mix of others -- fae now allowed to come and go as they please, glamoured to blend in, witches who have no problem with fae, creatures escaping the tougher rules of other territories to run wild here. Lancelot blends in to some degree, the aura of Seelie magic he gives off enough to throw off suspicion that he might be Daybreak, but he still can't help but feel anger still at the death toll the loss of Croydon to them brought.

Still. He flicks through his notebook and marks off another dead end. None of the smaller covens who had been willing to talk to him so far had heard of Matt Lloyd or anything about a missing werewolf. It's only the first day, but somehow Lancelot feels like this good be a long investigation. He just hope it won't be a constant string of dead ends.

Edited (fudging dates) 2015-09-29 23:39 (UTC)

They've yet to turn up the missing hunter, but there's at least hope.

After endlessly asking around they've one lead: a Circle Midnight witch by the name of Robyn Barnes has recently made claims her husband has been taken by a werewolf. That's already lead enough on its own, but the twist is one that leaves Lancelot's stomach sinking in fear.

Robyn Barnes husband died in the recent conflict.

Lancelot has never been Midnight's harshest critic, but resurrection magic is magic that he is fairly certain can never end well. It comes out of the darkest spellbooks there are to be had, and -- well. He supposes they won't know the facts until they see them for sure, but the images running through his head aren't pleasant. However the werewolf is involved, he distantly imagines that it isn't any happier than the rest of them.

With all the complication, he supposes he can see why Matt has been missing so long.

The thought makes his stomach drop further, and horrible thoughts of sacrifices flit through his head. No -- Matt Lloyd is presumed still alive until proven otherwise. Lancelot holds out hope that there's a chance he's simply injured or stranded somewhere, or trying not to draw attention to himself in the middle of fae territory.

He asks around for Robyn's details -- address, place of work, last known contact, friends -- and tries to build up a good picture before finding her in person. He only hopes she'll appreciate visitors. After all, he's a Night Council Guardian. Maybe she'll want their help finding her missing husband?

It is slightly personal, if Faolan's being honest with himself. The man who'd disappeared, he's Hillingdon, same as Faolan himself. Hillingdon look after their own. They have no one to count on, no allies but each other. He had not been friends with the man, per se. Faolan doesn't really have friends (arguably, considering present company). But he knows the man. He's known him for years. Seen him around Hillingdon House. Seen him at what little gatherings Hillingdon has.

"It's possible," he responds, following the other man's movements with his eyes. "Fae might be part of the problem. If so, they may be holding him somewhere. I do not understand why, however. He was after a wolf. This should have nothing to do with them. Even if he should have been tracking it in their territories, the Fae and the Wolves share no particular love for one another."

"Fae hardly need an invitation to cause trouble."

Lancelot lofts an eyebrow meaningfully, lets his eyes skim away as he thinks.

"They might not be involved, it could be a coincidence, but with the timing -- with everything going on the last two months it seems a very well timed coincidence. I have no idea what the fae would want with Hillingdon but there's such a thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Going on a week that Alice had stopped abruptly taking her medication, she also had started to ignore her psychiatrist's calls, around the same time things in the coven started to heat up. Alice was a novice to the rest of the coven and she did everything she could to push herself in getting to know others. Robyn Barnes -- Alice didn't really know much of her, other than her husband was recently passed. Alice had offered her sympathies to her, having lost her family, too. She would have eventually liked to befriend the other witch, too. Friendship was a tricky thing for Alice, she couldn't really say she had any friends and was dead set on fixing this with other witches.

Alice was disappointed the sentiment couldn't be shared with others, sometimes. In the evening, Alice was prepared to head back to her housing, glancing down at her phone, looking at about the fifth call from her doctor. She admired his persistence, at least, scrolling through texts telling Alice how worried he was for her and how he promised he wasn't going to reach out the hospital. That was great, but it was at the bottom of her to-do list.

She was going to leave soon until word had gotten around someone from the Night Council was questioning the coven. Some didn't seem to take too kindly to it, as the tension lingered in the air over casualties and a blow in pride. Alice didn't question the resentment, she followed it. If they were irritated over being questioned, so would she. Around that time, Alice had turned off her phone from completely when the final text for the night came in from her doctor. Alice didn't really have to ask -- word caught around they were asking about Robyn Barnes an where she was going. All Alice could recall the last time she saw Robyn was she was inconsolable and angry. She had a hunch that she should have followed her earlier, from the time she stormed off in hysterics, finding herself in that situation so many times, herself.

The idea played in her head for a moment, until she decided to make an impulsive choice of trying to find Robyn, before anyone from the Night Council had the chance to bother her again.

Her defense was the vorpal blade -- which, according to her father, was a knife not made of human hands, but of faes. It was risky, but it was her best defense, something made from the fae that could be used to fight them off, crafted for only the Liddell family, and no one else. After that, the coven was left stewing and spitting over the investigation, Alice had slipped off before anyone noticed.

She ventured off into fae territory, ignoring the pounding headache from the withdrawals and her growing hallucinations along with it, desperate to catch Robyn before anyone else. Robyn, at least, didn't lash out at Alice, right? Because she was young, a child to her, and Alice wanted nothing but to console her.

Alice nearly plowed out, gathering up her skirt, shouting wildly, "Stop! Stop it! Leave her alone!"

Faolan narrows his eyes. "Perhaps there is," he agrees. "Matt wasn't. Isn't. He's like me. He's just average. Human. The Fae, they have been known to enjoy toying with us. Especially those of us who are aware of their existence. To prove to themselves that they are better than we are. It's possible they might have taken him," he adds, glancing to the other man, very aware of Lancelot's own personal history, and the fact that he too had been a human abducted into the Fae realm, through one of their Doors, as they called them.

"He would not have gone willingly, however. Not without a fight. He is not the sort of man to give up so easily. Given that there has not been a body yet found, there is the chance that something else happened to him." He shakes his head. "As the report makes clear, however, whatever that may be, we have no way of knowing without further investigation into the matter..."

Now that he's hanging around the Hillingdon area a bit more, Sirius has been picking up more information about the movements of various people in various places. It's helpful, if nothing else, to know what's going on.

The name Matt Lloyd rings a bell, albeit a vague one. Sirius isn't sure if he knows the guy, but regardless of whether he did or didn't, it sounded like he needed help. Or at least to be found. So Sirius had set off, not entirely sure how he was going to conduct his investigation, but maybe he might hear something.

He sighs at that, tilts his head a little in a yes-but-no sort of gesture.

"Fae are normally more interested in... people younger than Matt," he says carefully, "if they're going to take them through a door. Younger, innocent, susceptible to their influence still." It's an awkward sort of thing to say, considering, and somehow slightly more awkward knowing Faolan is aware of that. He fidgets a second, rallies. "If he was in their territory he might not have been taken. Might just be injured, or stuck. If Hillingdon haven't heard from him then it's just as likely his phone has been fried and he hasn't been able to check in." He pauses again, begins to gather up the files. "We can guess at things, but we'd do just as well asking around. If we know where he was heading that's a good place to start."

Lancelot has yet to find Robyn. He's been asking around, and he has a few leads -- but the covens are all wary of him. Suspicious. He can't blame them, he supposes he would be too, but it's still frustrating when really all he wants to do is help.

Alice can be forgiven for not recognising him at first. Aside from her own mental state, her stress and anger and pounding headache along with the hallucinations, Lancelot dresses much more soberly when he's working. His coat is plain black, his curls are tamed to something neater and he hasn't his dog. He's standing trying to persuade a young witch to tell him where she last saw Robyn, the woman shrinking away from him a little.

"You know Robyn isn't in the best state," he's saying. "I only want to help her. Please. Whatever has happened -- Robyn needs help, and we believe --" Which is when Alice starts to shout.

He turns just in time to spot her -- and of all the people to see here he hadn't expected his. He makes a soft sound of alarm and dodges back, holding out his hands in supplication. All he has in them is a pen and a small notebook but he's still almost tempted to drop them, just in case.

The young witch he'd been interviewing looks surprised too. Her hair is wild and red, freckles all across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Emily, her name is, and she's a slight little thing -- small enough that Lancelot had the overpowering urge to try and feed her something the moment he saw her. The oversized coat she's wearing somehow underlines the effect.

"Alice!" she says in surprise, and for a second she looks like she's unsure if she should be taking this as a chance to run or not.

It's easy to hear that someone has been investigating Matt. Lancelot has hardly made a secret of it, after all. He has no reason to -- Matt is missing, he isn't a suspect in anything, and so far Lancelot has no reason to suspect anyone would want to get in the way of such a thing. So far, the only issue Lancelot is running into is suspicion and wariness every time he shows his Night Council identification.

Which is fair, he supposes, people are suspicious of him as a police officer for similar reasons -- but all he wants to do is help. If something has happened to the man he just wants to make sure he's okay.

"Matt Lloyd," Lancelot is repeating to a largely disinterested looking man. "Here, I have a photograph..." he digs into his pocket, holds it out and squints at the man as he barely lets his eyes light on it.

"Never 'eard of 'im," the man grumbles, "not seen 'im. We done?"

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a slow sigh, studies him a moment longer before dropping his arm and gesturing for the man to go. Another dead end. It's as he pockets the photograph and begins to make a note that his senses flare, telling him he's being watched. Lancelot pauses in the act of writing, glances around and up after a moment.

"Hello?"

Faolan realizes that Lancelot is speaking from personal experience, and it is a little awkward, but it's true, and the fact that the other man can bring the truth of personal experience to the table is a valuable thing. He frowns at the rest of the other man's words, however. Injured or stuck. Problems with his phone. Faolan shakes his head at that.

"He would not drop out of contact for so long in the middle of a job," he says. "None of us would. Not unless something happened. He either has been made incapable of getting in contact, to let us know that there is nothing to worry about, or to tell us he is in trouble. Or. There is some reason why he should have wanted to drop off the radar." He shakes his head again. "But you are right, we can only guess until we ask around after him. And the last that we do know, he was headed into Fae areas..."

"Then if you are ready..."

Lancelot closes the file, lofts an eyebrow questioningly at Faolan.

"We may as well make a start. If Matt is at risk every second may count, if he's hurt in any way or compromised..."

His lips thin unhappily, and Lancelot thinks Faolan knows the implication. Wasting time means time Matt could be bleeding, could be trapped somewhere, could be held prisoner. There's every chance he's fine, but also every chance he's not.

Sirius had considered conducting his search as a dog. It's easy enough to listen in on people. No one noticed you when you were a dog, and sometimes, you even got fed. It was easy enough. But that always came with the downside of having somewhere to hide and bringing along some spare clothes.

So, instead he just eavesdrops in the normal way. And he's surprised at how quickly he gets results. Maybe luck is with him today.

"Hi," he says, poking his head out from an alley. He's a little surprised at being noticed so quickly, but it's not like he was being deliberately sneaky.

Faolan nods. Lancelot may not have said as much, but he understands the implications quite well. The longer it takes them to find the man, the less likely it is that they should find him alive. Faolan has lost enough...well, not friends, he will refuse to call them friends (even if he knows within him that that's what they were), but he has lost enough people he has known from Hillingdon to the evils that exist in the world. If he can spare this man, then he will do his best to do exactly that.

"We'd better get a move on it," he agrees, before glancing at the other man and awkwardly continuing to say, "...thank you. For helping me with this. I can make no guarantees, but I will try not to have you regretting it. A man's life is at stake. I had thought that might convince you along, if nothing else," he says, with something of a smile.

Arthur overhears Lancelot asking around after Matt Lloyd early in the afternoon on the 23rd. He's been busy, doing some of his own investigating, but Matt's disappearance has him detouring through fae territory on the off chance that he picks up on a lead. Being a hunter is a naturally dangerous occupation, but it's been a while since Hillingdon lost someone and Arthur would like to make sure it doesn't become a regular occurrence.

He eavesdrops on Lancelot's conversation with an oblivious witch for a little while, pretending to check his phone until Lancelot starts walking again, at which point he follows at a fast walk until he catches up, calling after him.

"Excuse me," he says, curious. "Did I hear you say you're looking for Matt Lloyd?"

The man looks relatively inoffensive at least -- not visibly armed, irate and own his own. Lancelot considers him a moment before flashing a small smile, stowing his notes in an inside pocket and lofting an eyebrow questioningly.

"Can I help you?" he prompts curiously, unsure exactly what he might be lingering for. He could just be lost, he could recognise Lancelot from somewhere and he's simply failed to recognise him in turn. It could be, of course, that he's either overheard or been told why Lancelot is here. That would be useful.

He could also be about to get mugged, of course. That would be a lot less useful.

He slows down at the sound of someone calling out, turns and stops as he sees Arthur catching up to him. Did he --? Oh! Lancelot brightens visibly at the question, nods quickly and digs into his jacket pocket for the photo, his notepad and pen again.

"Yes, yes you did -- please, have you seen him? Here --"

Lancelot turns the photo and holds it out to Arthur, eyes studying his face for reaction. Does he have a lead? Finally?

Arthur starts to protest, but then Lancelot is pulling out the photo of Matt, and Arthur takes it slowly. He frowns, because he recognizes the guy. He's seen him around Hillingdon, remembers overhearing something about a werewolf.

Looking back up at Lancelot, Arthur finally speaks. He hands the photo back and he's still frowning, but otherwise his expression is suspicious. "No, I'm sorry, I was just... I thought I might take a look for him. Sounds like you don't have much yet."

Somehow James had managed to catch wind of this rogue wolf between all the vague planning he'd been doing to keep the East End pack safe, but also make sure vampires stayed out of the loop. The last thing he wanted was one of Islington's catching onto his plan and dismantling it before the Blood Moon even arrived.

It wasn't the first one in the wake of Hale's absence and it wouldn't be the last. The only reason this was notable enough to try and stick his nose into it, was that they'd attacked a hunter.

He's only following up on the leads of where the wolf was last seen, when he sees Lancelot. James recognizes him easily as one of the Night Council's enforcers, which makes approaching him much easier.

"Guardian."

"Actually, yeah, you could," Sirius says, looking Lancelot over. "Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. You said you're looking for Matt Lloyd?"

He's fairly certain about what he heard, but he just wants to double check. Having someone else to share information with would definitely be useful. Not that he has a lot to share at the moment, but there are other skills he could offer.

It isn't a title Lancelot is being address by, in truth. Lancelot has shown identification a few times now, had to use it to lever people into paying attention or helping, but he hadn't thought he would be recognised yet. After all, he's only been with the Night Council since July. He does not think he's done anything particularly noteworthy.

So it is that it takes him a second to realise he's being addressed, and Lancelot blinks in surprise at the man looking at him.

"Oh!" he says, and has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Forgive me, I did not realise you were addressing me. Ah, yes I am. Can I help you...?"

He tilts his head questioningly, trying to get a sense of what a man like James might want from him. Perhaps -- perhaps he is heard Lance is looking for someone, has seen the man?

Well, it was worth a try. Lancelot deflates a little in disappointment, takes the photo back and shakes his head.

"Not yet, no. Are you a friend...?"

A careful, casual way of gauging how much he can say to Arthur. If he just knew the man from the gym, after all, then Lancelot doesn't want to dump supernatural information on someone unsuspecting and have himself look quite mad.

Oh! Lancelot's eyes widen at that and he nods, taking a few steps closer and digging out the photo again to hold out to Sirius.

"That's right, I am. Do you know him, perhaps? Or have you seen him recently?"

Surely someone has, after all! The man can't have vanished entirely into thin air.

Looking at the picture jars a few more things loose and Sirius is pretty certain that he knows the guy.

"I haven't seen him recently, but I do know him. Or at least, I'm pretty sure I do."

It's been years after all.

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You warm by the firelight

23rd | WESTMINSTER, CLOSED TO FAOLAN [ KICKOFF ]

23rd~24th | GENERAL INVESTIGATION, FAE TERRITORY (OPEN)

24th~25th | COVEN INVESTIGATION, FAE TERRITORY, OPEN

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