undergrounds | HAVERING CLAIM

Entry tags:

HAVERING CLAIM

DECEMBER 5-7th; ANYTIME

The lead up to the claim is deceptively quiet. Although he already knows that most of the would-be interested parties will have their eyes on Croydon come the 8th, Finnick still doesn't want to attract any undue attention. He's quiet as he pokes around the borough, identifying places where he and his group might visit and checking for any large gatherings of Daybreak witches or vampires that might resist them. He's unarmed while he does this, knowing that a trident would attract all that undue attention he doesn't want, so he's ready to open a door and flee in the face of trouble.

DECEMBER 8TH; NIGHT

When it's time, Finnick gathers his group and they start in the south of Havering, opening doors for allies to walk in and out of as they start visiting supernatural communities in the borough. They stop in any known meeting places along with anywhere they can sense a significant magical presence - a witch or two in an apartment won't draw them, but a dozen werewolves camped out in some basement brings them knocking. Every time they meet with someone, Finnick gently explains the situation: the fae are claiming this territory and nothing has to change, as long as no one tries to attack any fae.

The trident strapped to Finnick's back is ever present - a quiet threat of what may happen if anyone tries to object. He slips in and out of shadows when there are humans present so as not to draw attention, but in the empty streets he walks freely, towing his group behind him or letting them spread throughout the borough without him. He's mostly here to oversee, after all, and he'll appear at a moment's notice if any of his Seelie fae are attacked.

DECEMBER 9TH; MORNING/MID-DAY

Finnick is a man of his word, and come morning little has changed in the territory. Fae have started moving in (many pre-emptively from Croydon), and a number of doors have been left open for the faery folk to walk freely in and out of the Other Realm. Finnick has found himself a spot near the window of a cafe, still easily found by any fae that may need him, but he's also making sure he's present in case any other factions decide they don't like what's happened. He stays there a few hours, ordering a couple coffees and a sandwich once lunchtime comes around. Waiting for signs of trouble and news of Croydon.

[OOC: As discussed, this is a quiet claim because of the hand-off happening the same night in Croydon, but if you want to make a top-level for yourself go ahead! Alternatively hit me up on plurk or on the plotting post if you want a more specific prompt!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Finnick comes home in the early hours of the morning, quiet as he walks into his apartment and locks the door behind him. His trident has been stowed in the Other Realm already and he's ready to relax - so ready that there's a smile on his face. This feels significant for him, personally. Like it's a first step toward something better for him, something beyond the fresh memories of pain and fear and every other awful emotion he hadn't known could be felt so sharply several decades ago.

He told Annie to go home before him. As they were approaching the north border of the territory having only met a little resistance, Finnick started dismissing his fae followers and told Annie to go as well, confident that they could finish it with reduced force. He was determined to see it through to the end, but that didn't mean he had to make everyone fatigued. So he's quiet and doesn't turn on any lights as he walks into the apartment, just in case she came here and she's already asleep, but secretly he hopes she's awake so he can tell her about this elated feeling in his chest. This relief. He wants to share it.

Annie had already told her grandmother she wouldn't be home that night. Something her grandmother was used to, but where Annie was concerned, she did always want to know where she was. So Annie would tell her, though leave out some of the details- like the Havering takeover and how she was walking side-by-side with Finnick, thus putting her in a vulnerable position. As far as her grandmother knew, she was just spending the night with Finnick.

She'd protested, when he'd sent her home, but nearly asleep on her feet, she'd listened and taken the tube back to his flat. Annie let herself in with her spare key, and settled herself down on the couch to wait for him. Well, it took a little longer than she'd hoped, and by the time the door opens, Annie is mostly-asleep on the couch, still wearing her clothing from that night, curled up under a large throw.

Her feet are bare, her toes just peaking out, and the rush of cold-air from the hall has her stirring in the dark. She shifts, opening her eyes to see the light from the hall illuminating a familiar shape. "F-finnick?" she says, stifling a yawn. "You're back!" She sits up, smiling a sleepy smile as she looks on at him. Trident is gone, which only meant good things.

At least she'd had the good sense to remove the knives she favored as a weapon from her person, before curling up. They rested on the table, next to the iron bracelets she'd taken off as a good-will gesture towards the fae for their adventure that day. "Are you okay? Hungry? I can make you something." Annie, as luck would have it, was quite the cook.

Finnick smiles warmly as he wanders over and sits next to her on the couch. He had his suspicions that she'd try to wait up for him, which he took into account when she was resisting the whole idea of leaving. He liked the idea of her waiting up much more than wandering London's strets half asleep looking for trouble, so he had insisted. It was certainly for the best. "No, no, it's fine," he tells her as he passes a hand over her hair. It's a calming gesture for her and for himself, but for now it's just a reminder to enjoy the moment.

"It's done," he says, "at least for tonight. We had no more trouble after you left. Havering belongs to the fae now."

"because I'd make you something to eat, if you'd like." She sits up in order to better curl up next to him. He was warm, and felt more like home than her grandmother's flat ever would, though she'd never say it out-loud. The very idea turned her stomach, that someone could be more her home than her family. But... Finnick.

Annie nuzzles him just slightly in appreciation of the gesture. "Congratulations, Finnick." A quick press of her lips against his neck. "I'm so happy for you." she meant it, reaching for his other hand to hold.

Finnick leans into her, wrapping an arm around her waist and running his thumb over her knuckles. “It feels good, to have done something. I always thought it would be better to stay out of it, so that I wouldn't have to deal with…”

He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to her hair. “I only hope it'll stick.”

Annie hums softly, in acknowledgement that she's heard what he's saying. Or, rather, isn't saying. She closes her eyes again, leaning up against his chest. "You did well," she promises. "and if it doesn't stick, it's not your fault." Because sometimes, she knew he needed to be reminded of that as much as she did.

"Because you've done a whole lot more than other fae."

He ponders that as he rests his head against hers, and he can feel himself relaxing with her in his arms. "I wouldn't say that," he says lightly, "it's only that I care more than some about being able to come to this realm, to live here without fear."

He sighs and rubs her back, a soothing gesture that's become a habit for him. "I've got at least one good reason to want that."

he melts into her, and she melts back into him. He's warm, he's home. "You know you can always use Gram's," she says. The flat was perfectly fine with a portal. So long as it was a private portal for Finnick and Finnick alone.

"I'll do anything I can. To make sure you can come and go." To be with her.

"I won't make you do any more than you have to," he tells her, and it's the truth. He invited her to come with him in Havering, but in that case he knew already that the witches would be preoccupied with Croydon and they were far enough away from the vampires not to worry about them too much. He knows she's trained and she can handle herself, but he's not going to use her as a piece in any game, and he's not going to rely on her to be there in a situation that could just as easily make her upset.

"And I won't let it get to that either. The fae can be strong enough to make our voice heard here."

if he asked, she knew she'd do anything. be it put herself in a bad position or anything. she loved him and love meant Annie would go above and beyond for him. they were both painfully aware of it, and deep down she was thankful he didn't put her in those positions. but at the same time she hated not being as capable as she should have been.

"I know," she said softly, near his ear. "you're amazing. I'm so lucky to have you." she didn't deserve him.

"I'm the lucky one," he tells her with a smile. He pulls away just slightly so that he can kiss the top of her hair again. "Now come on, you should get some rest."

"I was resting," she insists, but other than that, doesn't argue. "You need it, too." She reaches down to take his hand. "And I sleep better with you, anyway."

"Fine," he says, nuzzling her gently with his nose. His hand closes around hers and then he stands up, waiting for her to follow before he leads her to the bedroom. It's not much, but it's all Finnick needs in the mortal realm. A simple bed frame with a decent mattress, not much in the way of decoration except for a few things he's collected over the years and anything Annie's brought in to bring a bit of life to the place.

She follows him to her feet, tiny by his side. Annie leans against him as he walks the two of them into his room. Their room, she sometimes lets herself think. Over the past few months she's brought in flowers, candles, books, to decorate. Some of her hunting equipment is in a drawer, her knives, other such things.

Oh, and some clothes. It's been a long time since she first left a toothbrush over here.

"Keep me warm," she tells him, moving to curl up in his bed, reaching for the fluffy throw blanket. " hands are cold."

Finnick doesn't need to be told twice, slipping into bed beside her and fitting himself around her. He tucks an arm around her waist snugly and sighs happily once he's comfortable.

"Warm enough?"

Annie nuzzles up against him. "Much better," she coos, wrapping her arms around his as best she can. "You're a perfect big-spoon."

"Only because you're a perfect little spoon," he murmurs affectionately, grinning because he can't help it when Annie's this happy.

"I try real hard," she tells him over her shoulder. Her eyes are shut again, blankets pulled tight around her. She'll be back to sleep in no time.

Ringer pointedly ignored the weariness in her soul. There's a quiet yet constant nagging in the back of her mind that her mission is unachievable and that her constant fight - alone as she is - will succeed in doing nothing but eventually getting her killed. In spite of this, she arrives in Havering quietly that night, pistol in the holster at her side with a smoke grenade in her back pocket and a few additional things in her backpack. Her jacket hides the grenade and the pistol well enough to move unmolested through the area.

She's about an hour into the hunt before she finally spots a fae door. Better, she finds someone opening one. Ringer moves through the shadows to get closer, drawing her gun a few meters out and pulling it level to the fae's chest. It only takes her a second to realize she recognizes the fae and she falters ever so slightly, gun dipping before steadying again.

"Why are you supporting them?"

Finnick turns his head to look at her, unsurprised, but whether he heard her coming or masks his emotions well is unclear. The gun only scares him so far as he knows that some hunters load theirs with silver bullets, so he doesn't make any sudden movements but doesn't back down either. Ringer has elected to speak first, which means that even if she's here to make some rash decision, she might be reasoned with. Finnick's always been good at that.

"Supporting who? My own kind?" he asks gently, raising an eyebrow in question. He knows how she feels about the Unseelie court, but this is no Unseelie court initiative and he'll make that clear shortly if she thinks as much.

"I know you place other Fae over the value of human life," she answers evenly, her gun steady. Ringer's finger hovers a couple millimeters away from the trigger. To someone familiar with weapons, it's a visible sign of her hesitation, that she has no immediate intention to shoot. Of course, that can all change in a second. "But you already have a Realm. Why do the Unseelie need to conquer the human world too? And why are the Seelie Court supporting them?"

Finnick takes a long look at the gun in her hand, trying to determine just how ready she is to pull the trigger. He's still calm, but clearly cautious since he doesn't move.

"No one said anything about conquering," he tells her. "We just want to be allowed to walk free in this realm, as has been our right for centuries. The witches and the vampires have made it quite clear that this is the only way can continue to do so."

"How? Why?" She asks evenly. Although their desire to walk freely in the mortal Realm makes her wary, his remark about it being done for centuries is vaguely reassuring. It's possible that they are less inclined to disturb the average human life than she's been lead to believe. Perhaps it's the conflicts between entities that cause the trouble, that innocent people are repeatedly caught up in. Like her, like Annie.

Ringer listens, holding perfectly steady as she waits.

"How what?" he shoots back, still staying very still as he glances from the gun to Ringer's face, giving her a bit of a sneer. "Circle Daybreak has gone out of their way to push us out, stopping us from creating doors in their territory, enacting laws against us but preventing representation from either court... it doesn't matter why they do it, just that they are, and we're not going to just take it."

He works his jaw, looking like he wants to spit on the next witch who crosses his path. "And the vampires, of course, they were made to kill - which you very well know - and the Night Council would rather have them in this city than us."

Some part of Ringer's mind wants to scream and break things. Trying to deal with the factions is a little reminiscent of her school days and its respective cliques. She frowns at Finnick, pausing a beat before finally lowering her gun. Her hands remain on the weapon in perfect posture, but the barrel points to the ground instead of at the fae.

"The Night Council is worse than the Unseelie," she says offhandedly, as if it's the most obvious fact in the world. After their last chat, she trusts that he'll understand the sentiment for what it is rather than an insult on his brethren again. In a more conscious and thoughtful tone, she continues. "Will this result in more harm to humans?"

Finnick still doesn't take too kindly to insults about the Unseelie coming from anyone but fae. No one outside the Other Realm could possibly understand court politics, but he lets it rest. He doesn't want that gun pointed at him again for such a stupid reason as defending the Unseelie. He does chance a look away, though as if he's thinking about the question.

"Why should it?" he asks flippantly, shrugging one shoulder. "The fae will continue doing what the fae have done for millennia, and if it's the fight you're worried about... well, we're not the ones who started it."

Ringer stares, resisting the urge to roll her eyes yet again. The old 'he started it' routine is reminiscent of her dealings with young children, not the immortal-type old Fae and allegedly self-aware witches that she's supposed to be dealing with. But it's all about the risk. Leaving the Fae a territory means they're less likely to force their way in via other means, as if she could stop them by herself anyway. On the other hand, it's escalating the existing conflict. Both are potentially dangerous to her species.

"You can end it. You can refuse to participate." She knows even as she says it that it's not entirely a choice. The Fae aren't asking for a territory so much as they seem to want the freedom to roam in general, something being denied to them. She would be fighting too.

With a sigh, she shifts attitudes, clicking her pistol's safety on and sliding it back into its holster. "You know I can't stop you. Try not to kill any humans."

"I haven't yet and I don't plan to do so," he replies with a smug smile, and it's the truth because he can't tell her anything else. Despite that, she'll only trust him if he appears not only honest, but open about his intentions, so naturally he continues on.

"This is meant to be entirely peaceful. No one has claimed this borough so we're just officially making it safe for displaced fae. This," he tilts his head back, toward the trident strapped to his back, "is just for self defense, if I need it."

Ringer tugs her jacket over her gun to hide it as before. It rings strange to her that Finnick hasn't killed anyone and she wonders if it's a lie and how often he lies to her in general. It's only because of Annie's words about him that Ringer gives him any trust at all, not that she's about to admit as much. His choice to elaborate only makes her feel more uneasy and she forces herself to ignore the nagging suspicion for now.

"Don't need it," she says lightly, a suggestion like to grab an umbrella while it rains outdoors. It's all Ringer can do.

"I'll do my best," he says to her, smug and condescending. It's true he intends for this to be entirely peaceful, but only because that's what's easier. He's never wanted to be a killer, but he's plenty good at it now and he does it when he needs to.

Ringer gives him a flat look in response, not goaded by his condescension and only mildly thinking less of him for it. After a beat, she turns and begins walking away. There's no reason to stay and, as much as it pains her, she feels like maybe she just needs to trust Finnick for now and figure out another angle to come at all this nonsense.

News of Croydon indeed.

Finnick is easy to find, as he said he would be, and Eames certainly appreciates that. He sits down in the seat opposite without announcing himself or giving a greeting, this is already more polite than turning up at a guy's flat to chew him out in Eames' opinion.

"Nice work," Eames says, not exactly impressed, but there is a note of respect in his tone.

Finnick watches him sit, trying to discern what happened the night before in Croydon just from Eames' expression or his posture, but he has no such luck and he nods in response to Eames' statement.

"We only had a bit of resistance," he says, almost flippant. "Not enough to give us any real trouble."

"I told you," Eames says with a shrug and an airy gesture, "Croydon would take most people's attention off you." The witches and the vampires, certainly. And the wolves have neither reason nor manpower to intervene. He was confident Havering would be taken easily, and it seems he was right.

Perhaps Eames' attitude is because Croydon didn't go well, or maybe he's just like this all the time. Finnick doesn't know him well enough to tell, so he has to ask outright.

"And how are things in Croydon this morning?"

"Tense." He clenches his jaw briefly, but that's the only outward tell about how Eames feels about everything, "let's just say there's now some... Contention about who the borough belongs to."

Finnick frowns, turning to look out the window. "Daybreak?" he asks. They're the only ones he could imagine would intervene, though he wouldn't be surprised if Islington was there to aide them.

"And their vampire friends." Eames quiets for a moment as someone brings him a coffee, to whom he gives a soft thanks before he turns his attention back to Finnick. (They don't work here, but that's not important. They're gone now.) He sighs, reclining casually in his seat. "I can't wait until that alliance bites them on the arse."

"Vampires never get along with anyone for long," Finnick says, frowning down at his hands now. "What will you do?"

Eames considers the question, pausing to take a sip of his coffee before he speaks, "the first step is pushing them back out as soon as possible. Then Norrell needs dealing with."

"I can help with pushing them out," says Finnick, glancing back up at Eames and then out the window. Doing this has changed his mind a little, even he still harbours a deep resentment of the witches. He feels like he could work with them now, even if he has to keep them at arm's length, having gained a bit of confidence from taking Havering.

"And I can help with handing it over, if you're going to try that again."

"You sure?" Eames raises an eyebrow at that. He's not about to turn down the help, but it's hardly as though Finnick's feelings toward witches have been well-disguised.

Finnick works his jaw like he has something a bit stronger to say on the matter, but after a moment he says, "I want to help the fae. I won't let my fear of them get in the way of that any longer."

He gives Finnick a considering look, as though he's not even entirely sure what the statement means for a moment, and then Eames smiles and lifts his mug in a facsimile of a toast. "Well then, I look forward to working with you."

Finnick nods in response, looking as though he's still thinking about the very real possibility that he may have to work with witches in the future, but he decides to change the subject.

"Just let me know when and where you need me. I've never been one for grand plans or anything like that, but I can wield a weapon just fine."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

HAVERING CLAIM

DECEMBER 9TH; EARLY MORNING (FOR ANNIE)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

DECEMBER 8TH

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

9th

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject