undergrounds | The Croydon Debacle

Croydon is a dismal place at the best of times, but at this time of year it's damp and cold and miserable.

Amazing it's a place in such high demand.

December 7th will see preparations taken. Some of the fae in the area take serious issue with handing the area over to witches of any kind and vacate the area as soon as word gets to them. Others prepare for the inevitable fight coming to their doorsteps. The hope is to avoid as much bloodshed as possible, avoid alerting more mortals than necessary as to what's happening on their doorsteps, but it's foolish to assume Daybreak would catch a whiff of this and not step in.

December 8th. The day of the handoff. Several fae, Eames included, watch the witches coming in with a harsh gaze. It's kind of frustrating, how it's impossible to tell the allegiance of the witches by sight alone. It may seem threatening or intimidating, but it's important to be ready at moment's notice. One thing they'll not allow is to be bested again so soon.

December 9th is a strange day; likely on all sides. With so many involved, it's probably a surprise that all it lead to is a stalemate. Anyone sensitive enough to magic will feel an electric tension in the air; tempers are high, frustrations are high, crime... is surprisingly low actually. A place held in contention between fae and witches is bound to be a magical minefield, but the fae at least seem more concerned with fortifying their position than starting any fights in the immediate future.

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Eames is ready and available over the few days, preferring to take a coordinating role rather than getting into the fray. He knows there's whispers about what's happening, and he'd be foolish not to assume Daybreak's taken issue with it. And if they take yet another borough from him, he'll lose his damn mind.

On the day he weaves large illusions from a distance, trapping witches and redirecting them as best he can. He's on hand to talk to, but no way is he getting in line of sight with one of these damn witches if he can help it.

The 9th is... A frustrating day. Eames spends most of it checking in with people, figuring out how best to move forward from such a disappointing outcome. They can't sit idly by on this, they need to regroup and figure out how best to oust Daybreak ASAP.

Aligning himself with Daybreak has always been a matter of convenience. To give the illusion of being a part of something bigger, versus the vulnerability of standing alone.

At least that's how Jackson imagined it. Now that turf wars are ramping up, his policy of detached involvement may prove untenable. It's already saying a lot that Jackson's here, making his presence known, even if he's only here to rubberneck--

Jackson saunters next to Eames, back-slouched, hands tucked in his pockets, a stupid grin on that scruffy face. "Now, here's an idea," he raises an arm in front of him, like a conductor, "Trick 'em with a fake Tyrannosaurus Rex. It'll scare away humans and magical-folk alike."

Is Jackson joking? Who the hell knows with that cheeky grin.

He reaches into his pocket and snatches up a cigarette. "So what's the score now? Got money riding on this thing."

Eames laughs, though he doesn't add any dinosaurs to his illusions. Anyone who'd be tricked by that is probably stupid enough to get themselves taken out of the fight on their own sooner or later.

"Relatively even across the board, it would seem," Eames raises an inquisitive eyebrow at Jackson - he's never been able to discern much about the man's loyalties beyond a mutual hatred of vampires, but in the present situation that's not exactly a useful fact. "Which way did you bet?"

It may seem insulting-- to crack jokes and bring up dinosaurs in the midst of a battle that will bring pain and bloodshed, regardless of the victor. It's disrespectful, and even a little cruel, but then that's Captain Homer Jackson for you. A beacon of humor and crudeness in any dark situation.

"Daybreak," he reveals. "Gotta root for my own team, I suppose."

Before Eames gets a chance to react to his newly-revealed allegiance, Jackson quickly cuts in--

"But I ain't your enemy, not really." Jackson shrugs. "Truth be told, I've got no appetite for any of this. Been to war once, and seen enough for this lifetime and more."

He looks up at Eames, tensing, ready to react should the Fae consider him a target to take out.

Edited 2015-12-27 11:55 (UTC)

He may have an intense dislike for Daybreak, but Eames has always been able to separate the individual from the whole - the individual witches of the circle are largely immaterial, it's their leaders who started this.

Which is to say, he doesn't really give a shit what colours Jackson flies so long as he's not here for a fight.

"Shame your bosses don't see it the same way," Eames says. Manner light, but he's watching intently for any sign that he's being lied to, "you think they'd be happy to see the area leaving fae hands voluntarily."

"My bosses?" He scoffs, making sure to appear more-than-offended. "Don't insult me like that. There ain't nobody who tells me what to do."

Well, if one doesn't include the Inspector, but that's an exceptional case, given that it's Edmund Reid: a human detective, and more importantly, an honest-to-god friend. And friends, true friends, are worth more than any coven.

Hence why he doesn't stick to party lines-- if he can make a friend out of Eames, fae or not, he'll do it.

"I can't speak for them, or Daybreak. But between you and me, I don't care what belongs to who, as long as I'm free to do as I please." He turns to Eames, sporting a cheeky grin. "Of course, they don't know that."

How odd. Jackson is potentially the most un-Daybreak Daybreak witch he's met; if he'd been made to guess, he'd assume the man was with the other circle. This desire to do as he pleases only adds to Eames' opinion that he's picked a weird side to be on.

But then, why not pick the dominant power if all you want is to be left to your own devices? It's why Eames worked to secure his own place within the courts, after all.

Still, "funny you'd align yourself with Daybreak then." Eames smiles and punctuates with an airy gesture at the area around them, "I'm not sure there's a more totalitarian faction in the city."

Exactly. If you're going to masquerade as a coven member, best pick the winning side.

"I'm not makin' a political statement here. As long as I can carry on with my business, undisturbed, a member of Daybreak I'll be." His smiles draws flat, as an irritating thought enters his mind. "Though lately, this whole coven thing is gettin' to be annoying. I mean, who has time for turf wars? I don't."

Jackson pauses, gesturing to Eames.

"What about you? You seem all rah rah Fae. Casting illusions. Doin' your part."

"I want what you want." He raises his eyebrows in a shrug, it's a simple enough desire. To be left to your own devices. Restrictions he could understand and work with, but that isn't what's happening. "Unfortunately? Some would rather ally with parasites than let us move freely throughout the city."

Upon hearing the word vampires, Jackson lets out a little groan, for effect, even covering his face as though embarrassed.

"Don't even get me started on the bloodsuckers."

He peeks out from behind his hands, turning his head to look straight at Eames. His words are soft, clandestine, despite the lack of potential eavesdroppers.

"As you can see, I'm not very... obligated to Daybreak. And me and them certainly don't see eye to eye." He takes a breath. "What I'm tryin' to say is that I ain't gonna fight with you. We'd make better drinking partners.

Edited 2015-12-31 09:54 (UTC)

"Yeah?" There's a bit of a laugh in his voice, what an odd time to throw that out there. "There are easier ways to avoid a fight, you know." Eames says, a little wry. Not that he thinks Jackson's here trying to avoid a scuffle-- not entirely, at least. You don't typically strike up a chat with the nominal enemy just for that, but it's an odd situation regardless.

"But, I just might follow that up at some point. Decent drinking partners seem to be in short supply these days."

The Croydon Debacle

All three days, OTA

while eames casts illusions

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