[ Active / Open ]

[knightscode]

A) REDBRIGHT RESEARCH -- OPEN

Gaining a sudden gift for telekinesis was not something Lancelot entirely expected. It has been at turns alarming, confusing and funny.

The fact that the power had kicked in before the formal letter from the Night Council hadn't helped, although he'd been a little relieved when he'd read it and realised it wasn't anything more sinister. For all he knew it might have been a curse, after all. He hadn't forgotten the one that he befallen Nancy (had she ever worked out who it was, he wondered? Or was that still a mystery?) and while such an ability didn't seem like punishment he could see how it could quickly become as such if it wanted to.

The trouble of it all is that Lancelot has no experience wielding real magic. He can run faster than others, he can punch harder, he can vault up walls but casting a spell? That is nothing Lancelot has any experience with, and moving things about with his mind is not something he particularly wants to lose control of. Lancelot tries to stay a peaceable person when he can, someone who doesn't go out of his way to take a life, and the last think he'd want to do is hurt someone without meaning to simply because his new-found powers took over.

So it is that Lancelot turns up at Redbright, the best place he knows to learn anything magical, and turns to books. He isn't the best at research -- in truth, he's quite bad at combing books for such things -- but nothing ventured, nothing gained. If it will help him make sure he doesn't toss half his kitchen around with his mind just because he burnt his breakfast then it will be all for the better.

He only wishes he'd brought a bigger cup of coffee with him, because his eyes are starting to glaze over faster than he'd like.

B) GIFT SHOPPING -- OPEN

Why Lancelot thought going shopping on a weekend in December was a good idea remains a mystery, but the fact of the matter is that he has. He hasn't bought any gifts yet, and even devoid of ideas as he is Lancelot knows he has to try. Coffee in hand, and dog safely at home where she won't be too worried by the crowds, Lancelot braves the masses and tries desperately to work out what people might even like.

By lunchtime his energy is beginning to flag, and by the afternoon he's quite certain if another person bumps him out of the way he's liable to perform a citizen's arrest.

He's bought at least one gift, made a few mental notes to compare prices on others and now his feet are starting to hurt and he'd really like to sit down, if he can manage to find somewhere quiet. It's starting to feel borderline impossible, but there has to be somewhere in this place he can get himself a drink and something to eat which isn't packed already. He sighs in irritation, dodges out of the way of a particularly large buggy with large bags hanging off it and vows to do the rest of his shopping online. As much as he likes supporting local shops the people using them really can be terrible.

Steeling himself he makes another attempt to duck his way through the crowds and find himself a coffee shop or a bench. Either would work at this point, he isn't fussed.

C) REPORT -- CLOSED TO SYLVIA

Across Sylvia's desk, toward the end of November, will come a sealed file from Lancelot. It's stamped with an official Night Council marking, and he brings it personally -- he needs to be sure, after all, that it does not get even a glance from the wrong person.

30th November 2015 FAO: SYLVIA REDBRIGHT, PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL As of the 27th of November Faolan O'Neill officially returned from his time within the Shadow Coven. His new position within Hillingdon made it difficult for him to keep a low profile, and I believe this was for the best both for his own safety and for the integrity of the Night Council as a public outing would be damaging. His status is better used within the Night Council rather than hidden with risk of reprisal. Below is the combined sum of the information learned. Known Midnight Supporters. Listed members of the Shadow Coven have been confirmed. Nancy Fagin, 18 years old, is a blood worker and streetwalker. Her sentiment is as follows: "It's not about wanting to do dark, evil things. It's about the freedom to be able to, should we need to." Kenzi Malikov is also Shadow Coven. Faolan observed her and Abigail setting up wards and protective magic around their designated home, although the exact spells were unknown to him. They remain secretive, and Guardians remain of the opinion further investigation may prove similarly ineffective. Alice Liddell, exact age unknown but young enough to be studying, is confirmed as a member of Midnight. Has been observed associating with Shadow Coven, Kenzi Malikov specifically. Appears unstable, prone to nerves, violence and possible hallucinations. Njoki Rainmaker, exact association with Midnight unknown. Arrived in town a few months back, has no strong connections yet to the above mentioned girls. Faolan acquired one of her business cards, which advertises for, "Hoodoo & Conjure / Hands Made, Tricks Crossed, / Uncrossed & Things Done". Sentiment. In conversation with members of Circle Midnight several common opinions were ascertained. They expressed a clear doubt of the neutrality of the Night Council and its leadership, citing Barnet as examples of bias and the following memorial as Daybreak witches ‘pretending’ to mourn their Midnight sisters. The belief that the Mother of Witches does not 'really care' is a clear one, that Circle Midnight are in some way oppressed and that Daybreak has a degree of protection. Members are focused on protecting themselves and their own, quickly closing ranks when threatened. Paranoia and recklessness have been observed, suggesting that recent events have increased the feeling they are threatened. This has been especially observed in the member Kenzi Malikov. Members associate freely with Vampires and Fae alike, although the former appears to be a mixed association. Although some work closely with them others, notably Kenzi and Alice, harbour poor feeling toward them. A persuasive attempt with Nancy Fagin that attacking the Night Council and Mother of Witches will not gain understanding, instead 'prove' they cannot be trusted, has been declared 'heard'. General Conclusions and Observations. Members of Circle Midnight tend toward the younger age range, with late teens to early twenties seeming common. Members have often displayed a degree of instability in their personal lives, both past and present. Members display strong opinions, but not of a malicious or destructive nature. Members desire for the 'freedom' to make their own mistakes. Members are secretive and slow to trust strangers during current tensions, making private investigation ineffective when compared to open approaches. When approached candidly, members respond well to being listened to and reassured. LANCELOT DULAC GUARDIAN, NIGHT COUNCIL

C) HOMECOMING -- CLOSED TO FAOLAN

Lancelot is fussing. He's aware he's fussing, and that he should take it easy, but it's been a while since he's really been able to spend time with Faolan and he's pleased to have the man back.

So he's fussing, checking on the food he's cooking and that the bathroom has clean towels -- that all his mess is cleared away and that there are sheets and blankets and things ready for the futon when Faolan wants to turn in. Lancelot fully expects Faolan to be exhausted, after all, and grateful for somewhere safe to be able to hide -- for a given value of safe.

Lily barks a short alert at the sound of the doorbell and a few seconds later Lancelot is opening it, greeting Faolan in a flurry of smiles and fluffy white animal enthusiastically bouncing beside him. He's dressed down at this time of night, faded jeans and a loose v-neck -- hair a little mussed from running his fingers through it as he works.

"Come in, please!" he says quickly -- and stands aside to let Faolan bring in his things before he assaults him further. The extractor fan is whirring in the kitchen, signalling food at some point, and Lily dances along by Faolan's feet as he moves -- bouncing as she fights down the enthusiastic urge to jump up at him. "Put your things anywhere you want. I've tried to make a little space. Are you hungry? I've started some food but it can keep or wait if need be. I just wasn't sure if you'd have eaten before or on the way over, so..."

Comments

[reticence]

"South American. Well, it sounds good," Faolan says, eyeing the pot on the stove as he does. "Smells good too, even," he adds, with a quirking smile as he does. "Sounds like a Stobhach Gaelach, really. No one can really agree what's in one of those, either. No doubt 'whatever you've got'. But I've no doubt that the flavors are different, all things considered." South American and Irish, they'd have to be pretty far from each other, even if the concept and even some of the ingredients are the same. It's all in the flavoring, no doubt, which has to be different from what he's familiar with.

He reaches for the water glass, taking a few sips before setting it down again. "I hope it isn't too much trouble," he says, after a moment, gesturing around him at the flat. Not just the kitchen, but everything. "Having me here, I mean," he specifies again. All this fussing, he wonders if maybe it is, a little, not quite understanding where it's coming from.

[knightscode]

Stobhach Gaelach? Lancelot wrinkles his nose a little, curious and confused both.

"I have no idea what that is."

He shrugs, quirks a smile and takes the jug back to the fridge to set back.

"And you are no trouble, I assure you. We missed you! Didn't we, Lils?" Lily swings her tail happily, fussing between the two of them as Lancelot checks on the food he's cooking again. "You must be tired, though, so I'm happy to have you here. Means I can keep an eye on you, mmm? And we can catch up properly!"

[reticence]

Faolan lets out the huff of a laugh at Lancelot's honesty, before shrugging slightly himself. "Irish Stew," he explains. "It's just what we called it whenever I had it, I suppose." And that's about as much as as he's comfortable talking about home, to be true.

He feels as though the other man has kept something of the tone that he'd used to address Lily with when he'd continued talking to him, but he isn't complaining (though he does feel a little like rolling over to have his belly rubbed for it). He smiles slightly at the other man nonetheless, and holds his hand out for Lily to come and be petted, if she likes. "Catching up properly. I'd like that. Means I don't have to worry about much of anything either, with you keeping an eye on me, now does it?" he asks, wryly.

[knightscode]

"Very true. We can keep an eye on each other, then."

Lily pads forward to sniff at Faolan and shove her face into his lap, fussing as Lancelot adjusts the heat on his food and pulls a few things out of the fridge.

"It must feel good to be able to relax, after everything. Have you thought about what you'll do now? About Hillingdon."

Since he found himself in charge of it, after all, even if he doesn't think he deserves it. Lancelot shoots Faolan a cautious look, unsure if he should really be asking but not taking it back. Not yet.

[reticence]

Faolan hums softly under his breath as he reaches down to run his fingers through Lily's fluffy mane, over her ears, and back across her head again. "It's good to know I can be myself," he gives, glancing up at the other man after a long moment, "without worrying I'm making the wrong decision somewhere. Without constantly reminding myself of my cover, who that man is supposed to be, what he would say or do..."

The other question gives him pause though, and in contemplation of his response perhaps some of the fatigue weighing on him, having driven himself as hard as he did, might be more noticeable than before. Whatever Lancelot notices that or not is on him though, it doesn't matter to Faolan. But as far as his answer is concerned... "I don't think a moment's gone by that I haven't thought about it," he says, honestly. "Needless to say, my undercover days are certainly done now. But. I should be able to maintain the both, from there." So long as nothing in Hillingdon should lead him to disobeying his Night Council oath, of course...

[knightscode]

Lancelot pauses at that, studies Faolan a moment. His tiredness, his shoulders carrying an invisible burden. He turns down the heat a little, pads over to Faolan and drops to crouch in front of him -- reaches to take one of his hands.

"You know that I believe in fate, Faolan. That means I believe you were meant to do this. That you can do this. They say nothing worth doing is easy, and it's true. I doubt it will be easy. But you have it in you do do great things. No leader is born with some... special, magical quality that makes them good at it. It is hard work that gets them there. Being able to jump a wall does not make me any more suited to such things than you. I believe you will do good things for Hillingdon, Faolan, and I will always be here to help when you doubt."

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't know what sort of a reaction he expected in the face of such honesty, but it certainly isn't this one. Kneeling in front of him as he is, clutching his hand in his own. Telling him that he believes in him, that he will always be there for him. Faolan's never really had support from anyone, certainly not for a long time, and certainly not to this degree. It leaves him speechless for a moment, staring down into the other man's earnest brown eyes. It almost has him believing in himself as well.

Faolan has to look away after a moment, his face flushing slightly, though he does not move to take away his hand. But what does he say, in response to such a thing? To such a reassurance that he did not even know that he needed, until Lancelot has laid it out in such a way before him? "'Always' is a strong word to promise someone," he says at last.

[knightscode]

He quirks a smile at that, something gentle and wry.

"Latin blood runs hot. We only know strong words."

Then he pats Faolan's hand, pushes to his feet again and lets go of him so he can return to the kitchen.

"Besides which, isn't that how friendship works? I shouldn't even need to promise you, Faolan, you should know I will always be here."

Adjusting the heat again he offers Faolan a lopsided smile, shrugs a little.

"Sure you only want water? You look exhausted."

[reticence]

Faolan bites his tongue on the fact that he doesn't rightly know what friendship should be, in truth. Everything he'd had, everything he'd known before, it had been so long ago it was as if it had been in another life. Whatever he might have known is gone now, and here he is, nearly thirty, learning it all over again. No, Lancelot doesn't need explained that. He supposes it's enough that he's offered, even if he still struggles to believe such a thing possible.

At the question Faolan relaxes somewhat, leaning back in his chair, unable to help the quirk of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lips in return. "Thanks," he says, offhandedly. "It's been... A long couple of days. I'll explain when we're both a little more settled. Truth be told I could use a coffee, really. Don't know that it goes with a stew, though."

[knightscode]

"You can have whatever you want with it, in truth. I won't judge."

Uncovering the stew he stirs it, hunts for a spoon to taste a little. It seems fine, he thinks, so he stirs through to make sure everything is cooked -- reaches out sideways vaguely to hit a button on the front of the coffee machine to start it warming up. It begins to whirr its way through a cleaning cycle while Lancelot turns off the heat on the hob and take something out of the oven. There's a moment of quickly re-arranging things in a small amount of space and then he's bringing the heavy pot over and setting it in a pile of mats, quietly whispering hot to warn Faolan off touching it before grabbing smaller containers of sides -- beets, beans, corn on the cob. He vanishes away again then re-appears with some slices of warm French bread, sets it down and shuffles things on the table before bringing over two dishes and some cutlery.

"You can have as much as you want," he says, beginning to stir through the pot to bring things up to the surface. It's a thick, translucent broth -- pieces of beef and potato in it, pumpkin, onion, celery and leeks -- all sorts of things, including a little bit of rice it looks like. Edging Faolan's dish closer he begins to serve some out for him carefully.

[reticence]

Faolan takes note of the warning and keeps his hands to himself and stays out of the way as Lancelot sets himself about preparing the table, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with more and more food as he comes and goes. He sits in place, idly stroking Lily's ears as he watches Lancelot bustle around, the food smelling delicious and Faolan himself feeling really rather pleased with where he is in the moment. Wondering if maybe this isn't Lancelot in his element, in some way, as some of the most relaxed moments he has witnessed of the other man have been over one of his home-cooked meals.

"Whatever I want, as much as I want," Faolan repeats the other man's offers, glancing up to him with the hint of a smile. "It's a good thing you've already planned to house me for the weekend. You'd have to throw me out the door." He moves to push himself back from the table. "I'll have the coffee, but I can get it. You don't need to be continuously waiting on me."

[knightscode]

"You're my guest," Lancelot insists, dropping a hand to rest on Faolan's shoulder. "Don't even think about it. Just tell me what you want. White? Black? Cappuccino? Something else? Sugar, no sugar?"

He pads back through again, begins banging out the grounds from the machine and grinding some more. Lily twitches her ears at the noise, but she's used to the loud machine -- and far more interested in the food Lancelot served out for Faolan. Can she have some? She has been so good! A very good dog! Surely she deserves some stew too?

[reticence]

"Black," Faolan says, after he finds himself forced to stay in his chair. Can't say he didn't at least try. "Strong," he says, after another moment. "The more caffeine the better at this point. Beyond that, you can bring me whatever you like." He sits back in his chair, although not before peering out across into the kitchen where Lancelot had gone, suddenly compelled with the need to ask, "You can really make all of those drinks with that machine?"

Don't think he doesn't notice you, Lily. He's been warned the food is hot, and he's not sure what Lancelot's rules regarding table scraps are for you. Depending on the answer though, he doubts Lancelot would go through all this trouble for homework without spoiling the dog a little too. She is very good, after all.

[knightscode]

'All those drinks?' Lancelot glances back at Faolan, twitching an amused smile.

"White coffee is just black coffee with milk in it," he teases, then shrugs after a moment. "It can make a few things, if you know how to set it up. Adjust the strength, add the right amount of milk, that's all it is. So, if you want to be more precise... Epresso, Americano, Macchiato.."

He tilts his head questioningly, stopping the machine grinding finally and beginning to set it up.

"I know the gauges for most, although if you're expecting patterns drawn in the foam you'll be disappointed."

[reticence]

Faolan shakes his head, making something of a face in response to the teasing. Yes, he knows what white coffee is, thank you very much. Just because he doesn't have a machine himself doesn't mean that he lives under a rock. Don't you understand how much of his time is spent in coffee shops? He does branch out and try all the different options available, even if his regular favorite order is rather traditional (and possibly fairly boring).

"Impress me with your coffee-making talents when I'm more capable of appreciating them, but for now, just black is fine," he says, dryly. "If it's good quality coffee, more the better."

[knightscode]

He grins at that, grabs down a cup and saucer and begins adjusting switches before letting the machine whirr into action.

"I have a question for you, Faolan," he begins, voice a little playfully sing-song as he leaves the coffee to grind. "Did you do anything for your birthday?"

Lancelot tilts his head curiously, widens his eyes in mock surprise after a second and holds up his hands in self defence.

"Just curious, since you didn't mention it, but I happened to stumble on the information while you were away."

[reticence]

"My..." Faolan's brows furrow, confusion spreading across his face, before Lancelot explains himself. Stumbled across the information... In his file, he supposes. He'd needed to give some information about himself, when he'd become employed by the Night Council. He's suddenly very grateful that his record only requires things like name, date of birth, and previous hire experience, and not anything more personal than that, like his past for instance. Things he really doesn't known, and certainly not from someone having read his file.

He takes a moment to continue frowning at Lancelot as he contemplates his response, trying to figure out how he feels about the other man 'having stumbled' on such information as well. "It's not something I'm in the regular habit of celebrating," he says at last. Really, it had been a day just like any other day. He had woken up, done what he needed to do to get through the day, and found a way to get to sleep again somehow. Looking back on it now, he hardly remembered the day itself at all, truth be told.

[knightscode]

Lancelot wrinkles his nose a little at Faolan's frown, sensing his unease easily enough.

"Don't worry, I didn't go looking through everything they have on you. I just looked up the date -- I was curious! I've known you nearly six months and you've never mentioned it, I just wanted to know if I'd missed it. Turns out I had."

He flickers a wry smile, retrieves the coffee as the cycle finishes and begins to dig Faolan out a spoon and some sugar cubes.

"So, I may be nearly a month late... but, since you didn't do anything, does it matter?" Sliding the coffee onto the table beside Faolan he sets down the sugar cubes beside it, squeezes Faolan's shoulder in reassurance and lowers his voice as he leans in. "Happy birthday," he murmurs, and smiles before standing again and ruffling Faolan's hair a little. "I won't sing, I promise."

[reticence]

Faolan isn't sure what it is that has his pulse quickening as it does. Perhaps it has something to do with the way that Lancelot laid his hand on his shoulder, the warmth of it, the weight of it, and the fact that Faolan is nowhere near to anyone touching him with the ease that Lancelot does. Perhaps it's the way that he leans in and murmurs in his ear, his voice as soft and affectionate as it is. Or perhaps it's the mixed smell of the soup on the table in front of him, and the coffee that he's just set before him, and whatever it is that makes Lancelot smell the way he does, that musky, earthy something. Perhaps it's some combination thereof. Regardless, Faolan finds his body reacting to it, and as Lancelot reaches out to ruffle his hair, he shifts in his chair slightly, on the pretense of ducking out from underneath the man's hand but really he is just looking to sit further under the table.

"You haven't shared your own, you know," Faolan points out, awkwardly. Flushing slightly as he reaches forward for his coffee, to give himself something to do with his hands. Dropping a couple of sugar cubes into the cup for good measure. "Don't go pointing fingers at me when you're equally guilty. You could have just asked."

[knightscode]

"May 5th!" He supplies easily, dropping down into his own chair and beginning to serve himself some food. "I have nothing to be guilty of, you haven't missed mine yet. You didn't know me in May."

He flashes a satisfied sort of smile at that, eyes sliding sideways to Lily as she pricks her toward him. He's serving food, she can smell it and hear it. Yet still none of dogs! Why is this?

"Of course, if you want to mark the date down you can be prepared for next year. You have a lot of time to plan if you start now."

Recovering the pot to keep it warm he jerks an eyebrow, reaches to take a slice of the warm bread before offering the plate to Faolan.

"As much as you want, like I said. As you can see there's not exactly a shortage of food here."

[reticence]

Faolan's waited for Lancelot to join him before eating, even though the other man had served him a while ago. At least that means that his food has been cooling this whole time. He glances at the other man again, feeling -- well, so comfortable in this moment he's wondering why he's not feeling less so -- taking a slice from the plate offered as well.

"Just don't expect a home-cooked meal," he says. "I'll just embarrass myself in comparison." He's probably made the bread too, the overachiever. As much as you like, Lancelot had said. He'll eat what's given him and then decide whether he'd like more. He's not exactly used to feasting, after all. Lancelot may think his cooking is simple, but when put up against a normal days' meal for Faolan, there's no comparison.

Faolan shifts in his seat again, sliding his eyes sideways to watch the other man for a moment. On the pretense of figuring out how to eat this food. If he happens to be studying Lancelot's expression, the way he holds himself, how relaxed he seems to be with just the two of them and the dog sitting down to a meal, then that's only for Faolan to know.

[knightscode]

"You can take me somewhere if you like," Lancelot quips, starting on his food easily enough. "Or we could order take-away and sit watching terrible films. I'm easy enough to please after all. Company is enough for me. What about you? You said you don't normally celebrate, why not? Just don't like the fuss?"

[reticence]

Faolan shrugs, picking a piece off of his bread to stick it in the broth and soak some of it up, searching for the right response as he does. Knowing that it's pretty obvious that he's stalling. Being difficult. But what does he say? Every reason he can think of mentioning sounds not only like an excuse, but depressing at that. The main reason of course is that it's been a long time since anyone else has bothered or cared, and celebrating by himself hardly holds appeal for him.

"Something like that," he says at last, raising the soaked bread to his mouth, excusing himself from having to explain further -- for the moment at least.

[knightscode]

"Worried it might ruin your tough guy image?"

He lofts an eyebrow, smirks a little as begins to cut up a little piece of meat. Not that much cutting is needed, it's been cooked in the stew after all.

"I admit, I'm not fond of making it all a big thing myself. Too uncomfortable. But... I think it's a nice excuse to have fun. I hope you don't mind...?" Lancelot wrinkles his nose a little at Faolan, as if preparing to wince if the man says he does. "I promise there isn't a secret surprise party about to launch itself out of my bedroom. There isn't enough room for one thing, and Lily doesn't like balloons."

[reticence]

Faolan raises his head to give Lancelot something of a deadpan at his little joke. Tough guy image indeed. He huffs out a breath, shifting slightly in his chair again, before dunking some more bread to eat. No balloons is good. No surprise party is better than good. But it isn't Lancelot's fault that he hasn't celebrated before now, and in all honesty, he doesn't mind it. So he takes in a breath, poking around at his food for a moment as he finds the right thing to say.

"I don't mind," he says. "I just wasn't expecting it. It has nothing to do with my 'image'," he adds, giving the other man another look, before shrugging and returning his gaze to his bowl. "I just. Haven't had the opportunity, I guess." There. A better way of putting it than stating the truth.