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

[falsify]

Eames makes a sympathetic noise, very much in agreement with Finnick on this. He's met the odd vampire he'd consider alright, but for the most part they're vermin that need eradicating. He has no intention of dying here either, but they need to understand that even their victories will be hard-won.

"It's amazing," he says thoughtfully, "that Daybreak would rather side with things that will eat them than have us in the city."

[thelittlemerman]

"Witches are scum too," Finnick says, the edge returning to his voice.

He looks straight ahead, a piercing stare at the point where he came through the door. "Self-important mortals with more power than they know what to do with."

[falsify]

Eames laughs, but it's harsh. Cutting in a way that indicates he agrees, though perhaps not quite so hatefully as Finnick. "They are arrogant," he sighs, frowning at nothing in particular, "stupid too, evidently."

[thelittlemerman]

"Whatever they are, they're tipping the scales in favour of the leeches."

He gets up, and it's slow going because he's been fighting all night, but he makes it upright again and puts a hand on his trident. "If only they cared about keeping us around more than them."

[falsify]

"A shame, but it's to be expected." He raises an eyebrow as he watches the way Finnick stands, the man looks like he may collapse the next time a stiff wind blows, but he's hardly about to tell him to rest. More useful raising hell against the vampires than anything else right now. "They benefit from their proximity to us but it's... An uncomfortable truth. If they can seal us away, then they never have to confront it."

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick's eyebrows knit together thoughtfully as he looks at Eames. His itch to bury his trident into the hearts of their attackers is returning, slowly, but he needs another moment or two in the Other Realm before he ventures out.

Besides, this is an important conversation. Every fae needs to hear it, needs to understand. "They've created this," he says, and he's so earnest about it that it almost lacks conviction. "They've made it so that the only way we can walk freely in this land is to rule it. We wouldn't have to take or defend these boroughs or any part of this realm if it didn't mean we'd be cut off or threatened out of this city that we watched grow, that we had a hand in creating."

Perhaps Finnick hadn't personally been there throughout the process, but it's undeniable that magic, and fae magic especially, had its part in London's history. That's what he learned. Maybe it's Seelie egotism, but Finnick knows they were there.

[falsify]

That's a statement that catches him so off-guard that Eames almost laughs. He knows nothing about this guy except he's Seelie, fights with a trident, and might be the first person Eames has ever met who hates vampires more than he does, but that's a bold statement from anyone. Let alone this stranger.

"We don't need to rule them. And we couldn't, for that matter. The courts are far too old-fashioned." He feels like he's had to teach someone how to use a mobile phone every week since 2002, there's no way they could have enough fae with enough maintained familiarity with mortal world to keep a hold on it. It's hard enough to get the courts to pay attention to this as it is, as if somehow it wouldn't spread if they did manage to successfully lock London away from Faery.

Eames shakes his head, frowning, "what we need to do is remind them what exactly the folk tales were warning them about. We may historically be dangerous bedfellows, but we're far more dangerous as enemies."

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick turns his frown on the ground, idly digging in with the end of his trident. He's caught - in some ways he feels as if he's always on the defensive, always avoiding the next snare, but he knows that has to change and he can't act like someone who's been hurt or else he'll be taken advantage of.

Without looking up, he asks, "do you think fear works? Do you think we can make them scared of us like that?"

[falsify]

Eames actually laughs this time. It's not cruel or mocking exactly, more like the way someone might laugh at a child who's said something charmingly naive, and he gestures broadly between the two of them and the state they're in. "They're already scared of us, and look how that's worked out."

"Fear on its own ever only lasts temporarily," he sighs, shaking his head at nothing in particular, "it's a balancing act. Show them your kindness and your teeth. Let them decide which they'd rather have."

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick used to be that naive child. For four hundred years he was happily ignorant; the mortal real was more like a playroom then. Something base and romantic. But he's not a child anymore, even though he's still relatively young for a fae.

When he looks up at Eames, there's a smirk on his face that he hasn't even attempted to play off as genuine. "I can fake kindness well enough, as much as I hate them. And at this point in my life, I come by the teeth naturally." The smirk fades. "I'm just not one for the long game. Not for planning, at least." He can survive. He's shown that well enough.

[falsify]

"Well you can attempt to kill every vampire and witch, and die in the attempt. Or you can learn to bide your time and turn this victory to ashes in their hands." Eames raises an eyebrow at Finnick, expectant. Truth be told he doesn't have much of a game plan beyond the next few steps, but he's hardly about to share that fact here and now in the middle of everything.

[thelittlemerman]

He frowns again, inscrutable. He wants to ask how, but he doesn't want to reveal how young he feels, how raw and vulnerable he actually is. So he holds it back, pursing his lips for a moment before he changes tack.

"My name's Finnick. Seelie, if you hadn't guessed."

[falsify]

"Eames," he offers with something approaching a smile, though there's not much joy in him right now, nor the energy to fake it, but he still likes this guy so far. "A pleasure."

[thelittlemerman]

"Pleasure's mine," he says, and it sounds like a habit. "I should go. I have enough in me to kill a few more vampires on my way home."

He steps forward, and the door opens again, and as exhausted as he feels he's determined to do as he promised and thin out their ranks just a little more as he finds his way back to Annie, back to the comforts of their home.