The Croydon Debacle

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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.

Comments

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"I still think you should've let me kill him." It'd make everything so much easier. The man is a weasly little waste of space with no understanding of the finer points of how all this works. Eames has ample hatred for Sylvia, but he can respect how she does her business.

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"Ah, so it's my fault," Arthur says, the irony returning. He knows that if Eames had really wanted to go that night, he would have gone. Arthur has no disillusions about his level of control over Eames' actions.

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"I've decided it might be." Even if he was right to say that just getting close enough to Norrell to do it would be difficult. And though Eames is nothing to scoff at in terms of power, Norrell is strong enough to make it difficult if he fights back. And Eames wagers his manservant is equal in that regard, something he doubts Norrell is entirely aware of. "Either way, we'd all be better for it."

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"Well, I can't say you're entirely wrong there."

A London without this brand of aggressive Circle Daybreak is a thing of recent memory, but now they're so deep into this conflict that it's hard to imagine it coming back. If anything, Norrell's on the upswing, and he'll only get more ambitious over time. Arthur's seen his type.

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He's relatively certain Norrell will burn through his support and power soon, but at the moment he wields enough influence to make life very difficult for the forseeable future. Eames has no real interest in seeing the tumultuous route between points A and B.

Eames sighs. He's so tired of this already, and he can feel that it's only going to get worse from here.

"I should go," he says abruptly, finishing his beer and putting the bottle down on the table, "no offence to present company, but I prefer to drown my misery alone." Ideally with some fae wine; then he can get properly drunk.

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Arthur can tell Eames is weary, which must mean it's even worse than it looks. The man's so good at masking his feelings, Arthur has to second guess every time he thinks he's read him. This time he can tell.

"Okay," he says, still affecting a neutral tone. "Give me a call when you sort stuff out." He stands up because it's polite, but he trusts Eames can show himself out.

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Eames offers a polite smile on his way out, ready for a night of heavy drinking and heavier sleeping.