Lancelot du Lac (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knightscode) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-12-03 09:25 pm
knightscode) wrote in undergrounds2015-12-03 09:25 pm
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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.
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..."
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..."
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"I should have expect it would be this way, but I suppose I had hope I might miss the rush. You're... forgive me, Miss Widdowson isn't it?"
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"Please," she says, offering her hand. "It's Abigail. I'm afraid I don't know your name." She gives a sheepish smile. "I'm really sorry if I'm just not remembering."
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He quirks a smile at her and takes her hand, dips his head fractionally.
"Lancelot Dulac. Guardian for the Night Council, since I suppose you will be curious, although at the moment I'm more concerned about guarding myself from angry shoppers than much else."
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Then, remembering herself, she says, calmly, "I hope you'll forgive me if I don't seem... happy to meet you."
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"You know," he says softly, "I'm beginning to think a lot of people have a very different idea of what my job should be than I do. You've no reason to be scared of me, Abigail, no more than you need to be afraid of a Police Officer if you haven't just broken a law."
He releases her, shifts his grip on his lone bag as he thinks.
"Will you have coffee with me? I'll pay, and you can say as little or as much as you like. I'd just rather listen to you than just rumours, I'm sure you know there's plenty of those."
His lips quirk up into something more wry, something knowing. After all, Abigail looking this way tells him she's probably thinking of Sylvia. Thinking of how he reports to her. Yet Lancelot deals in facts, not gossip, and he'd rather keep it that way.
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Cold and bitter. More direct than she usually is about all of it. It's one of the first times, actually, that she's said it so openly. But if he wants to listen to her, then he needs to hear that first. To understand why people -- especially her people -- have such a reaction to his job.
"But yes. We can get coffee. I'd like to know more about you myself."
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"Your choice of where we go. There's near enough every coffee shop under the sun here. Costa, Starbucks, Nero, Pret -- or somewhere else if you know a place."
Lancelot flickers a small smile, his best attempt at reassurance.
"You may as well pick yourself so you're comfortable, or as close as you can be."
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Not that she trusts anyone connected with Sylvia Redbright. But it does her no good to chase him away either.
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"I don't want to put you at a disadvantage," he begins softly, "forgive -- I suppose I already have in some ways, so I should say more so</em. You can start, if you like, even the playing field. Since you said you wanted to get to know me."
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There's one question that she knows she needs to ask. Mostly because she wants to hear the answer. Or, at least, what he'll say the answer is. Besides, it's a good way to start. And to set the tone for the rest of the conversation.
"Why did you want to get coffee with me?"
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Lancelot shrugs a little, lifts his coffee to take a sip as he gathers his thoughts.
"Like I said, I don't like listening just to rumours. I'd prefer to hear things from people directly. If I'm meant to help enforce the Night Council's laws, then... isn't that easier if I know the factions better? If know who to come to in each faction when I'm investigating something, looking for a missing person, whatever the problem may be? If the people in each faction know one of us, in turn, they can come to if they have something to report or need help?"
He tilts his head, curious, then lets his expression slip into a frown.
"Any career like this, you get good and bad people. It's true of police in every country, I have no doubt it is true of the Night Council too. I don't know about the person you saw, if they were a Guardian as you say, neither do I know the whole story. I can hope there was some reason behind that, but... well, I'm under no orders to harass or torture your faction in any way."
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It's a challenge. A young woman with her back against the wall, angry and hurt, and well aware that she is in her own corner and no one else is there at all.
"Unless, of course, it's standard for the Night Council to threaten someone with a vampire and force truth serum down their throats for not complying with questions asked of them."
Whether he believes what he's saying or not, he needs to know that someone knows the truth. She knows what Redbright is. She knows what the Night Council is. She has to pretend to play by their rules, but she isn't going to pretend nothing happened. Her coven knows. Her Circle knows. Because they deserve to. They need to know what they're up again.
"So. Forgive me if I don't seem like a 'team player.'"
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"There's no law against using a truth serum," he says finally, "not within the Night Council's laws. It isn't a pleasant tactic, but... it isn't illegal. If you wanted to report her..." Lancelot tilts his head, considering the question properly. "That would depend on the action you were reporting, and in what capacity she was working when she took it. Guardians enforce law and policy, so if she had broken a law we could look into it. If you had... doubts about her standing in the Night Council, other members of the Night Council board would be a good bet to report her too. They could overrule her. If... it was something to do with Circle Daybreak then your best bet would be those beneath her there, although..." He hesitates, trying to find the right delicate wording. "Depending on the problem, Dee may be more sympathetic than Gilbert Norrell."
Lancelot takes another sip of his coffee, collecting himself before lifting his eyes again.
"You can doubt me as much as you wish, Miss Widdowson. I admit, I like Sylvia. That's probably because I've never had a problem with her. I've never been threatened by her. She makes me... uneasy, sometimes, but I don't find her malicious. The fact that I like her doesn't mean I won't listen to a word against her, neither does it mean I wouldn't help you. As long as I'm not throwing Daybreak or the Night Council under the bus or working against them I think I'm fairly safe to have a conversation with you."
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But if she had held down a Daybreak witch, threatened her with a vampire to make her comply, then forced truth serum down her throat to make her compromise Daybreak? Well. She had no doubt that Guardians would be after her. 'Against a law' or not. But, then, what did she expect? Sylvia controlled the Night Council.
She controlled London.
But that... That would change.
"I don't trust Sylvia in the slightest. She proved what she believes in when we spoke in her office." It's easy to say. Because it's a simple, ugly truth. "And everyone who doesn't stand against her stands with her."
There was no middle ground, not really. 'Neutrality' simply meant supporting the status quo.
"I never wanted a bloodbath. Not ever."
But her hands are caked in it now, she knows.
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"Nobody wanted a bloodbath," he says simply. He wants to argue further, but he knows the very thought is childish when simplified down to its core. You started it. He drops his eyes to his coffee, uncomfortable in the face of her bitterness. Maybe this was a bad idea. She doesn't seem interested in listening to him, despite what she said, or talking to him. Maybe she's just indulging him to size him up.
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For a few moments, she stays silent. She sips her coffee and watches him. His disappointment is worn on his face, and she sighs a bit.
"I don't know what you expected. We're on opposite sides of a war -- and let's not fool ourselves, okay? There's a ceasefire, but this is war. Sylvia and the Night Council want to stamp us out. I'm going to fight with everything I have to prevent that."
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"I'd rather be a fool," he says finally, "than bloodthirsty. I'd rather have hope for peace and understanding than wilfully bring about death. My family was killed in the faction wars, Miss Widdowson, and whatever you may think of the Night Council I became a Guardian to protect people. For the same reason I joined the Metropolitan police. I have no doubt other people's reasons may be different, but don't paint us all with the same broad strokes. That will make you enemies of people who do not wish to be."
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The Islington Nest, after all, are under the protection of the Night Council. They are their allies. And this war won't be easy on anyone. At all.
"I've already given Redbright my word: my Circle will not attack Daybreak or the Institute. I intend to keep that until she breaks hers."
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"If it is a choice between saving someone and killing someone then of course I would rather save a person. Why would I not? It is illegal to kill a witch regardless, if someone was trying to kill one then I would do my best to prevent that."
Daybreak coven or no, attempted murder is still just that.
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Because whether it was Daybreak or Midnight, someone would break the truce. And it would be bad when it happened. Worse than Barnet, certainly.
"I'm not looking forward to more bloodshed."
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He frowns at her a moment longer, unhappy, then drops his eyes to his drink.
"You say you do not know what I had expected. I expected better of you, Miss Widdowson. I had hoped to find you ready and willing to outwit Miss Redbright and keep fighting for your Circle. Battles are not only fought in blood. They are fought in words too, in politics."
Lancelot tilts his head, lifts his eyes to her then inclines it in acceptance.
"Perhaps we should speak another time, when I have not caught you by surprise."
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It sounded like a trap. A very poor one. Him inciting her to action and to trust him. Only to hand her over to Sylvia. A good plan, yes, but poorly executed. After all, she knew there were enemies all around her. Especially in the Night Council.
"Though my plans don't just include bloodshed. I expect it to come, yes." Especially with the new players on the chessboard. "But that's not what I'm relying on. Just what I'm willing to do if I must."
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He studies her a few seconds longer before pushing his chair back, picking up his bags again and adjusting them to one hand so he can pick up his drink in the other.
"Think what you will. I have no way to prove to you that I speak in earnest, but... if you'll take one piece of advice? Be very careful of Gilbert Norrell."
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"Oh, I've already met him. A few times."
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"He may not be the most charming of men, but he has very deep pockets. Deep pockets that are buying him a lot of friends very quickly."
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