Is this a dagger which I see before me (Nov catch-all)

[occultdisciple]

Come, let me clutch thee
Lewisham, early November, day

The streets themselves were classic. He still knew their twists and turns, even if automobiles commanded the streets instead of horse-drawn carriages. Even so, it was good to be back on them, walking the once-familiar paths to learn what had replaced what he knew. The air of the place was entirely different, and he was almost sorry to see it lost. London hadn't been perfect then, no, but he'd known it. Now, he had to get to know a stranger all over again.

He folded up his newspaper he had been reading and set it aside on a bench. Anyone else who might want it was more than welcome to it. He'd read all he cared for by now. It was fascinating how scandal now was a natural consequence of being a politician, not something that would immediately ruin a man. Of course, he'd had plenty of time to learn that. It still struck him as amusing at times.

It was a shame to feel the fae magic in the area. While he'd never been particularly bothered with the fae -- he'd tapped into their power more than once during his Midnight days -- it simply felt wrong that they should be holding as much of the mortal realm in London as they seemed to. This was another world, not theirs. So, he'd have to see that set to right.

Deep in his thoughts, he'd begun walking, only to make a turn and clip someone's shoulder with his. Or perhaps they clipped him. Either way, the result was the same, and he gave a slight, old-fashioned bow. "Excuse me. I was distracted. Are you alright?"

I have thee not
Approaching Daybreak, November 8th

"Thank you, sir, for agreeing to meet me so quickly." As he said it, Lord Coward approached the man with an extended hand. It was refreshing to know that some things never changed -- like Daybreak politics. Men who rose to high ranks, as this man had, were often keen to keep them. It tended toward the matriarcal, after all.

Which was where they might well be able to help one another.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Norrell."

And yet I see thee still
Approaching Redbright, November 10th

This was new. Well, not particularly new, perhaps, but certainly after his time. He hadn't been to London since it's founding. It certainly presented itself as a noble cause and a fine instutition, which only made himself wonder what the cracks were. What dark little secrets were hidden in its walls.

That was a matter for another time. As it stood, Lord Coward had a few tasks to accomplish at the school, not least of which was attempting to facilitate getting help for pushing the fae out of Lewisham. The school was run, after all, by the leader of Daybreak, so there was surely cause to think she might be of assistance.

It wouldn't hurt, certainly, to see a bit of the campus, too.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
Approaching East End, November 12th

Of all the appointments Lord Coward had made this week, this was the one he was most dreading. It was, after all, an ancient feud that had its reasons for continuing. He had no real desire to do this, but he was too unconnected to properly act. So, it would have to be done.

"Thank you, Mister Memon, for agreeing to this meeting." Unlike with the Daybreak High Priest, Coward didn't offer his hand. They were on far different footing. "I know our social circles have their differences."

A polite way of putting it, to be sure, but he wasn't about to insult the man. Not when he wanted to suggest that it was in their best interest not to try killing one another for awhile.

To feeling as to sight
Whitechapel, mid November, night

There were always plenty of people willing to let a vampire feed on them. Sometimes, as with one of his newest acquaintances, they wanted money. Others were just after the thrill. He appreciated both equally.

But nothing could quite match the pleasure of the hunt.

It felt almost laughable to walk the streets of Whitechapel, looking for prey. He was quite content with having this as his territory to protect. Still, it wasn't lost on him that these were the very places the Ripper hand once looked for his prey. He couldn't help but chuckle at the mere idea.

When he saw someone, he approached, offering a raised hand to indicate he was there. He smiled a bit, almost wary. "Good evening. Bit late to be out, isn't it?"

Comments

[youronlylaw]

This was possibly the lowest he could stoop right now. But with how genuinely shitty things were going right now, what did he expect?

Making deals with vampires was scraping the bottom of the barrel, for sure. This wasn't going to win him any popularity contests with his pack but it would potentially save their lives if he could ignore everything he'd ever learnt since he was turned.

"That's putting it mildly."

His smile is professional, as is his handshake.

Nov 8th

[hurtfew]

Norrell, in truth, had not particularly wanted to see Lord Coward.

He was a vampire, and although he had been a witch before that Norrell regarded his life with great suspicion.

Yet Childermass had told him Coward had connections and ambition. Things, he assured Norrell, that he might be amenable to using if he hopes to rise to a position of note. Such a man, he told Norrell, is a good person to have owing you a favour.

Norrell was uncomfortable, but agreed finally. If with a certain degree of irritation.

When Lord Coward enters Norrell does not stand or look up. He continues writing, since of course his time is far too important for him to stop working just because a vampire wishes to speak with him...! Finally his eyes flick up, regard the hand offered with mild distaste, then drop again to his paper.

Coward might have his work cut out here. Off to one side, lurking as a constant guard, Childermass visibly rolls his eyes.

"There was something you wanted to discuss?" Norrell prompts, seemingly not particularly interested in whatever it might be. Not yet.

Nov 10th

[brightwitch]

The vampire is directed towards one of the greenhouses, where he will find Sylvia using a mortar and pestle to ground up some herbs, which are then stored in a small bottle. There are already several of these bottles on the table, each with their own ingredients: they'll be used by the students for mixing up herbal remedies and potions. Add to that the finch bills, feathers, pine cones and moss decorating her work space, and she looks particularly witchy today. She's also wearing a real poppy pinned to her dress.

She looks up, eyes bright in the relative dim of the enclosed greenhouse. "Mr Coward?"