Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more (Lewisham territory claim)

[occultdisciple]

Or close the wall up with our English dead
November 20th, afternoon

Lewisham was a beautiful district. On a day like this, it was almost impossible to tell that the fae controlled most of the area. Still, one who could feel and smell magic could sense it. It wasn't something that could be allowed to stand. The fae had their own realm to call theirs; they had no need of territory in this land.

Besides, it would help him establish his homecoming.

He not only needed to make himself known among the Islington Nest, but it would do well to be noticed in the rest of the supernatural community. Besides, there were plenty of others who disliked the fae presence. It made it an easy rallying point.

He had reached out to the witches -- particularly Daybreak -- and the werewolves. The latter had a few of wary onlookers, but he couldn't afford to have them as active enemies right now.

For the day, he was seeing the sights and looking at things from a strategic point of view. There were good places to make a bottleneck, to force the fae out into the open. Or into retreat. The difficult thing would be keeping the fae from coming back through their doors to not present a second front. As he looks around, he also keeps an eye out for any of his allies... or enemies.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
November 23rd, morning

No territory dispute could happen and be maintained without the proper political groundwork. So, that was what Lord Coward put the finishing polish to the day before he intended to move. The local members of each supernatural sect were warned to either join the fight or stay out of it. If they sided with the fae, he'd warned, they would be considered outside of the protection of their groups and, therefore, subject to the full extent of the battle.

He continued to make his rounds at the supernatural haunts of the borough, making himself known in each location. Where there was someone of particular note, he sought them out. Otherwise, he found a fairly public place and did his best to look as approachable as possible.

As modest stillness and humility,
November 23rd, evening

The night was coming, and Lord Coward let himself begin a hunt. It wasn't the night for the fight, but such an attack was never just one night. For days, little things had been done. Small scuffles that had ranging consequences. So, tonight he let his hunger come out.

It was a good way to clear the streets or bring out the enemies.

He'd found a fae sympathiser some days ago and been tracking them for awhile. They were a human, loosely connected with the protection of a minor fae. Nothing particularly important, no, but enough to have caught his ear.

As he finished his meal and licked the wound to close it, he raised his head, setting the body down carefully. To humans, it would be a mysterious death. To the supernatural community, it was a marking of territory. At a sound, he looked in that direction, fangs still out, though they were shrinking back to normal size.

But when the blast of war blows in our ears
November 24th, midday

Now, the fight had begun.

To human eyes, there was just a bit more random conflict in the streets. Nothing to be worried about, but strange things happened. It was the result of magic at play.

There was only so much to be done in human circles, of course. In the supernatural, there were far more obvious clashes. It was to be expected, though, and Lord Coward kept his back straight. After all, he intended to be known here. Especially if he wanted to eventually control all of Tower Hamlets.

He noticed it out of the corner of his eye. Someone looking at him. Curiosity, ill intent, or positive thought all seemed the same in a split second. So, he merely offered a thin smile.

"May I help you?"

Then imitate the action of the tiger
November 24th, night

In the dark of the night, Islington made their strike. They and their allies had one more day, Coward had made clear, to make this definitive. They needed to drive the fae out, period, and it needed to be done before they thought this was just a token show.

So, that night, Coward's fangs were out, and those who were not with him were considered against him. The blood would flow freely where it needed to. Or, at least, where he felt it needed to.


(And, of course, feel free to make your own top levels for others during the claim.)

Comments

[smugfox]

"Pity, honour, tradition or actual sorrow." Reynard started talking the moment he was in range of the man's hearing, but he kept walking until he could stand in his way, keeping Childermass between himself and the body. "Which is it that moved you to move her? I'm just curious, mind."

Of course he recognized Childermass from their run-in before. Rather ironic, wasn't it, that last time he'd been the one catching himself out when stealing and this time it would be so easy to see the way Childermass behaved as incriminating. Reynard's eyes landed on the corpse, his senses telling him enough, even from a distance. Just someone who'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time, if he were to hazard a guess. As close to innocent as anyone could ever be.

[knowstheworld]

Childermass turns at the voice. He recognizes it, and the irony does not escape him either, although he hardly feels caught out. He has done nothing wrong, after all. Sure, he moved a body, disturbed a crime scene, but he has ways of covering his trail, and truth be told he has very little faith that such a crime will be adequately investigated in the first place.

He raises an eyebrow, contemplating his response. Well, it certainly wasn't pity, for all that this is undoubtedly a case of the woman having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nor is it sorrow, for much of the same reasons. He did not know this woman, he does not know her story, why should he be sorry for it. Which leaves tradition, he supposes.

"Does it matter?" he asks, glancing down at the body at his feet before back at the man himself. "She will still be dead, no matter what I do for her." Which should probably give Reynard something of a clue towards the answer, considering the fact that he hardly seems to care about that fact, in the end.

[smugfox]

"I don't know how much anything matters, but I was curious, so it at least matters insofar. You're a traditionalist then, my good sir. I'm not surprised." Reynard looked past Childermass at the body, but only allowed his gaze to linger a moment or two. He was an emotional creature, always had been, but there was little good in getting attached to a corpse. "If she was less lacking in blood and you were less..." He waved his hand, fiddling over word choice. "...alive, then this would certainly be more suspicious. Not that I'd really misjudge a man like that."

He didn't even misjudge the cause of death of a corpse he'd only looked at from a few feet away. His senses gave ample answers to what most wouldn't even know without scientific methods. Of course, he could have played more of a fool, but he liked their new game of being witty around each other too much for that.

[knowstheworld]

Childermass quirks an eyebrow at the words, before huffing out something that might have been construed as a laugh, if it had come from another man perhaps. "You would not be the first to accuse me of such a crime if you did," he supplies the other. "But you would still be wrong. I had merely found her here, and if it should have been tradition that drove me to move her then so be it. A person deserves better than to be left crumpled in the gutter on the street, regardless of their crime."

He dusts his gloves off on the fabric of his coat, although there is nothing in particular to get rid of -- it's clean of all blood and other evidence to associate it with the vampire who did this. Yet Childermass too knows what sort of victim he is looking at. He turns his gaze upwards, seeking out the moon in the sky above him as he says, "I have done what I can here. What should happen from now is out of my hands." And whether he is speaking to the man beside him or someone else besides, nor whether he is speaking of the circle of life or who should ultimately discover her body and report the crime to the authorities, it's rather impossible to determine.

[smugfox]

"I don't know if that's true of any one person, but this one seems deserving enough, I'd be inclined to agree." Reynard only glanced upwards for a moment, to ascertain that Childermass was indeed looking towards the sky and not watching a bird. Interesting gesture, he supposed, it was always important to take note of people's belief, whether they had actual faith or just faked it. "We should get going, shouldn't we? I believe in traditions too, my friend, and I think we should start a new one."

His expression changed a bit, still smiling and somehow cheeky and pleading at the same time. "Buy me a drink?"

[knowstheworld]

Childermass glances around them. It's true, they shouldn't linger around the body for too long -- more people might start to come along and he may not be able to talk himself out of everything. He's already been to jail once this year, and however accidentally he wouldn't care to repeat the experience so soon if he could help it.

So he shrugs slightly, before nodding. "That can be done," he replies. "Do you have a favorite place in mind, sir? It is just that I do not know the area as well as I would like." Which is true, although it is also true that Childermass knows the area perhaps better than he's willing to let on, all things considered.