The Slippery Slope [ Active / Open ]

[hurtfew]

i) Norrellite Coven, Open Door Session

It's a new year, and Gilbert Norrell is still excessively pleased with himself. Not only has he gained a coveted place upon the Night Council as Witch Representative, but he has persuaded the Night Council to enact a law to limit and punish the use of Dark Magic.

Finally, things are coming together! Finally all is as he hoped!

Of course, the idea that Sylvia may wish to send him away to visit other covens so soon after his appointment is a concern. Yet for now it is one he is not thinking too deeply on. Norrell's desire to stamp out all the mystical traditional nonsense from magic and make it modern and respectable does lend to spreading his word. Perhaps, he thinks, it will be a good thing to gain support outside London too. It is only that he dislikes travelling so extensively...

Norrell's study itself is a curious thing, impossible to find without escort. The way feels excessively winding, as if an impossible number of turns must be taken -- turns that are oddly difficult to remember afterward. There is the dizzying sense of magic about it, but then again perhaps such things are to be expected from Gilbert Norrell -- a man who is not without paranoia.

Childermass is in attendance as always during his open door session. Norrell himself sits behind his desk with excessively small glasses balanced on his nose, his sharp eyes glancing up as people enter. As High Priest of Daybreak alongside his role as coven leader Norrell must listen to all Daybreak witches and address their concerns. It is only that he wishes their concerns were not so plentiful and tiresome.

Of course, he is also happy to take on the role of teacher for those who wish it. Norrell greatly enjoys talking about magical history, theory and practice. While he dislikes purely theoretical magicians -- well, reading is an important part of learning and Norrell will cite any number of great authors and books to help a person find and fashion a spell for what they need. After all, his is the most extensive magical library in England.

If he will give you the book itself to read is another matter entirely.

"Well?" He prompts, removing his glass to hang on their chain and setting aside his pen -- lacing his hands together on his desk. Norrell's gaze is equal parts expectant and mildly impatient. He does have work to be doing.

ii) Night Council, Westminster

His new position means Norrell is back and forth from Westminster even more than previously. Before he had been trying to gain audiences with the Night Council, delivering messages, pleas, petitions, letters expression his opinions on matters and suggestions.

Now it is others who seek audiences with him. What a great thrill it is, to be so recognised at last! Only now, where he had been the irritation of others (even if he had not regarded himself so) -- now others irritate Norrell. They wait outside Westminster to catch him going in and out, trying to rapidly ask questions or pass messages. To shout and protest, to plead and push messages toward him. Norrell's car always draws as close as it can, and Childermass is always on hand to push people away, but he feels harried.

Some protest the law, some applaud him and ask what more he will do. Some call for peace, and some ask what Norrell will do about Croydon -- when will he secure Daybreak's grip upon it once more?

It is a certain level of chaos associated with celebrity, and while it is flattering for a short while Norrell quickly grows to dislike it very much.

Mister Norrell! A woman screams as he slips from his car, tries to hurry up the steps. Bodyguards restrain her, and Norrell dare not risk a glance back until he is near the top of the steps. Mister Norrell! You will answer for what you do!

He pales and hurries the rest of the way up the steps and into the security of the building, lips thinned unhappily. So distracted is he that he doesn't notice his company at first, and it is only the slight catch of movement that alerts and startles him into taking a step back.

iii) The Purge Begins

Once the purge begins in full force the Night Council and its Guardians are busier than ever. Fielding findings from searches, charges to be filed, complaints, reports from well meaning folk ranging from valid to 'well they wear a lot of black and eyeliner and looked at me suspiciously'.

Gilbert Norrell, of course, takes it upon himself to handle a lot of this personally. Not only does this stop Sylvia having to deal with it (something she, of course, is glad for -- this way the fault lies with him not her if it all goes south) but Norrell himself is glad for it. Denouncing witches his disapproves of and making their lives difficult is, after all, something Norrell excels at and enjoys greatly. Childermass himself has been employed many a time to investigate purely theoretical witches who cannot cast a spell to save their life, to force them to admit they are not true witches and then (of course) to gain any good books or tools they own and bring them to Norrell himself.

Norrell is the Greatest Witch of the Age (title unofficial ), The High Priest of Daybreak and Witch Representative of the Night Council. He speaks for witches, and it is his good intention to see witches respected appropriately (and himself in the process).

Of course, this means he is greatly busy with all the work he has made for himself. He is constantly poring over reports and signing documents, reading through descriptions and examining items -- giving instruction and snapping at Childermass that he has no time.

That, and there are the charges and complaints to address too.

Some come to complain of the way they have been searched, of the behaviour of guardians who have done the search, of the right of the Night Council to even do such a thing or even to question the new law itself.

Some are brought before him to face charges.

They are accompanied, of course, and the questionable items delivered for inspection along with reports -- and Norrell examines everything with a critical eye and an air of distaste.

iv) The Croydon Debacle Pt. ii

The fae are moving.

Norrell knew it would happen, and this time he is prepared. This time he has extra resources at his fingertips, and why should he not use them?

It is not cheating, to Norrell, merely acting for the greater good with all his strength. Making sure that he is making it more respectable to be a witch and that that dark, evil magic is being denounced in favour of modern magic.

So what issue is there with him ensuring that Croydon will be purged as one of the first territories? What issue is there with him planning for Daybreak to move on it shortly after?

It would have to be purged eventually. That is the new law, after all! If it perhaps works in his favour it is neither here nor there. Any accusations of favouritism are scowled down, for the fae are an enemy to all and the territory was Daybreak's originally. It is right that it should be returned to them, as any territory taken by the fae menace should be returned to its owners.

Norrell begins to make plans. He calls upon all his previous allies, contacts, spreads word to Hillingdon once more and offers his usual rewards. Money, scholarships, teaching.

This time, however, this time he has greater reach. This time he asks not just as a High Priest of Daybreak, but as someone with inside knowledge of the Night Council.

His letters are sent, his requests for assistance, offers -- now all he can do is wait.

Surely this time...

Surely this time he can truly drive out the fae, and then he will have proven he deserves this?

Comments

Night Council

[acrookedchild]

Technically, even now, a Circle Midnight witch cannot be barred from entering the halls of these headquarters. Not that Abigail announces her presence as easily now, but she still has her ways to slide in with a crowd. As well as one or two people who will casually look the other way to knowing precisely where she is in the building. Especially when she means no harm.

Norrell is a thoroughly infuriating and dislikeable person. Which is why she feigns no fondness as she falls into step with him. Still, she is not here as an enemy, so she immediately bows her head in a small indication of regard.

"I thought I should let you know, Mister Norrell," she murmurs, well aware of the purge beginning to happen in Croydon, "that all those of Circle Midnight who recognise me as High Priestess have been asked to relocate from Croydon."

A gesture of good will? It might seem so. It, certainly, was a departure from her attempt to secure a Midnight foothold in the south. But there are larger matters ahead. Things that she must plan and account for. Like the fae's new presence in Havering. Their 'gift' of Croydon was nothing of the sort. Had it been an intentional distraction? Or simply a useful occurrence to let them spread their influence unopposed? They were already willing to quit Croydon entirely. Because they had somewhere else in mind. Being lied to stung hard, worse still because she had gained nothing through it.

"They will be out entirely within the week."

Any help the fae receive from witches is not condoned by me.

[hurtfew]

Norrell's mind is still on the woman screaming on him outside, still nervous, heart racing as he thinks on her. On what she might mean, who she might be, what she might do.

So it is that as Abigail seeming melts out of the shadows into step with him and speaks Norrell startles badly -- regards her with wide eyes as if she is an apparition come to get him. Which, at this point, he could very well believe.

Her words take a moment to filter through to him, yet even then he remains wary -- raised hand lowering slightly but mistrust still lit in his eyes.

"Was she yours?" he prompts, seemingly out of the blue, but his eyes dart back outside. "A threat?"

Which would be at odds with a good will gesture, but Norrell sees assassins in every corner. He is slow to trust any little thing.

[acrookedchild]

"Was who one of mine?" Oh. Wait. She had seen something from inside. A woman shouting. Being held back. "The woman outside? No."

Though. Well. She can't be sure of that.

"Not that I know of, at least. If she was, she certainly wasn't acting on my orders or anything of the sort."

[hurtfew]

He seems to deflate fractionally at that, regarding Abigail a moment longer before flicking his eyes away.

"Hooligans," he mutters under his breath. "Uncivilised, no respect at all."

Norrell begins unbuttoning his coat in an agitated manner, giving it up to someone who scurries out and standing a moment clutching his files as he collects himself.

"This is exactly the sort of behaviour we want to discourage. It will not do." He fusses a few seconds longer, smoothing out his clothes before settling his eyes on her once more. Examining her with unease before seeming to mentally right himself once more. "You speak of Croydon?" he prompts, because yes -- despite his alarm he had heard what she said. Had taken it in.

the purge

[stauncherhearted]

Nancy Fagin has been found in possession of the following items:
- Three (3) grams of Black Cake
- Two (2) grams of Voxo
- One (1) wand, containing traces of dark magic once performed
- One (1) slave ring
- Four (4) spell-books, one detailing the summoning and banishment of fae
- One (1) ounce Canway

that was what she hadn't managed to hide away, at least. Most of her paraphernalia, sundry charms, were all hidden where hopefully not even the Night Council could find them. The rest, she'd tried to hide, but when they'd ransacked her flat, they'd been able to come away with far, far too much for her taste. The result was clear, she was being brought up on fines for possession of dark magic, and dark magic artifacts.

Most of it, she wasn't worried about, she could get it back. But the ring and the wand... She'd be getting those back if it killed her. That ring couldn't fall into the wrong hands, and, worst of all, that wand. She'd used it occasionally, but mostly she kept it sitting on a dark, velvet cloth, removed from possible harm's way.

But they'd found it, and they'd marched her right in front of a man that she'd hoped never to see again. Norrell. Norrell was the reason she'd been attacked the other night, the reason she'd been abducted previously, and a general pain in the ass of Midnight witches everywhere. And now she was in front of him again, this time standing with her chin up, her jaw set, and her bright lipstick on point.

He could have the drugs, he could have the books. But the rest, that was hers.

"Lovely to see you again," she said coldly, the man who had brought her in standing near the door. "At least this time it's under honest circumstances."

[hurtfew]

Honest circumstances.

The reminder immediately puts Norrell in a bad mood, and he regards her with his typical look of mild disgust. He hasn't forgotten that she broke one of his vases, and caused such a fuss -- was so lurid.

He shouldn't be surprised that one associated with fae possessed such a collection of distasteful items.

"The law is the law," he begins, "and I cannot come to believe that you were not aware of the recent law changes. Why, then, do you have this list of things in your possession?"

Norrell looks up from the list, tilts his head to one side questioningly as he regards her over his glasses.

"It has been outlawed for a reason. No good will come of it. Miss Widdowson assured me none in her circle practised such things. Do you associate with Miss Widdowson?"

[stauncherhearted]

Please. She'd been brought into his home thinking that he'd grown fond of her and she was going to be paid for services rendered. Don't get upset. And the vase... I believe the kids say #NoRegrets.

"They were gifts," she says simply, because it was close enough to the truth. She's not going to elaborate on her friendship with Abigail, however, keeping mum about it all. She still had no idea they had any information on her, that she'd been spied on, and in this case, ignorance was most certainly bliss.

"Just because I have them doesn't mean I want to use them. Or have used them." The drugs he could have. Books, too, even. "If you're intent on breaking into my home and taking my things, you can keep them. I have no use for them save my personal effects."

[hurtfew]

"Gifts?" he prompts, neatly ignoring all accusations of breaking and entering -- as well as her concerns and protests. "From who? If someone is gifting such things, is dealing in dark magic objects, then you should report them. If you had reported them and handed over the objects you would not be here in trouble. The law does not pick and choose who must abide by it. The law is for everyone. Possession is included as much as usage. You can still be fined and have them confiscated."

Croydon Debacle, Part II

[protagonized]

"Mr. Norrell."

The Simon that knocks on Norrell's door isn't the same cocky, self-assured young man who had been so little help the last go-around. Now, he has the look of a man who hasn't slept in days. Less than a week ago, his life was completely upended. He'd killed a man and lost his family in the process. Even his best friend refused to talk to him. He is entirely alone.

So getting the summons from Norrell had been a blessing. Something to take his mind off of the realization that the family he had spent his whole life looking for wanted him dead.

"You wanted to see me?"

[hurtfew]

Norrell may be a difficult person to stomach at the best of times -- grating, petty, often described as turning things into an unbearable history lesson and entirely fixated on his own issues. Yet the Norrell who sits at his desk waiting for Simon is a little different too. His eyes flit up nervously as Simon enters, darting between him and the man at the door escorting him. Deciding that it must be safe, finally, he nods and the door is closed quietly, leaving the two of them in the study together.

Even his private room here in the Norrellite coven is like something of a small library. Nearly every wall carries books and artefacts, and the room is filled with magic -- seeming to seep out of every surface. He shuffles his papers, studying Simon a few seconds longer before dropping his eyes to his notes and beginning to write.

"I understand," he begins, as gently as he can -- which ends up being somewhat awkward, as delicate is not Norrell's forte. "That you have had a difficult start to your year."

[protagonized]

Simon opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but then seems to think better of it. He just nods.

"Yes."

Difficult is putting it mildly. Simon can't remember the last time he ate, much less slept. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the corpse of the man he killed.

A corpse that was currently sitting in the morgue waiting to be repatriated to the States while the news media on both sides of the Atlantic ran alarming stories wondering how an American attorney could disappear for days and then be discovered mauled by animals somewhere out in the country. It hit uncomfortably close to home, but the Night Council had done excellent work and not a single thread of suspicion hung over either Simon or his parents. Richardson's body hadn't even been found in London.

"I want to thank the Night Council for what it's done for myself and for my parents," Simon says eventually. "And I would like to repay the favor, if I can. I understand you need some work done?"

[hurtfew]

The answer appears to surprise Norrell, who had not actually considered that approach -- using the Night Council action as leverage. Which, perhaps, is in one way a good thing. It show she would not stoop that low. On the other, it leaves him sounding dismissive of Simon's problems as nothing. That, and he had planned to stoop to a different low.

"It is their job," he says simply, "our job. Such a thing could not be left for the papers to pick over and gawp at, for gossip and idle chitchat. It risks endangering the statute of secrecy, of exposing us to the general public. No, it was not a favour to be repaid. However, you should consider what this means for you. Such actions, such behaviours, are why Daybreak means to spread its safe zone. Are why the Night Council keeps its laws."

Purge

[kleptofaeniac]

They came into her home. Disabled the wards she had on the doors and windows and came in while she was in the middle of painting her nails for crying out loud! Needless to say, she was pissed. But lucky she had the Seven Sisters as a place to hide her more...illicet stuff. No doubt someone was on their way to ransack it right now though.

"This is so illegal!"

Kenzi's shrill voice could be heard clear down the hallway, protesting as she was dragged (practically) towards Norrell and his stack of paper. If Kenzi could get away with it she'd curse him right then and there. Maybe make all his hair fall out. Or grow too much. Whatever she could do to him, Kenzi wanted to make it happen.

She glowered ineffectively at him as she was brought to stand before him.

"Kenzi" Malikov has been found in possession of the following items:
- Five (5) Daylight Jewelry
- Two (2) Moonlight Jewelry
- Three (3) Wolfsbane Potion
- One (1)Vampire Toxin
- Two (2)Lock Breaking Charm
- One (1) Book containing obscure Fae contracts
- One (1) small knife
- One (1) silver "brass" knuckles

It was everything she had on her. The list for the stuff they found in her apartment was probably longer.

Her mouth clamped shut at the sight of the little man. If he remembered her trying to set him on fire she was so screwed.

"Nice place you got here."

Anything for bravado.

[hurtfew]

Norrell lets out a heavy sigh of dismay and disgust, flicking through the list of her personal possessions and then her apartment items. Not all of it is illegal, of course, but you also do not allow a Midnight witch to keep a silver knife on their person while talking to the High Priest of Daybreak. She can have it back later.

"Fae contracts," he reads aloud, a tone of distaste evident. "You are aware of the new laws regarding the use and posession of dark magic and related items, I assume?"

She has to be. Norrell knows that, for he wrote to Abigail himself before the law became active. Yet there is an order to these things, formality to be followed.

[kleptofaeniac]

Kenzi didn't even bother trying to hide rolling her eyes from him. He doesn't like her - she doesn't like him. They're both on the same page as far as she's concerned.

"It's a book."

Nevermind that the magics inside were well above her paygrade.

[hurtfew]

"It is indeed a book. A book of fae magic, a thing of dark magic which is punishable by law now as you well known. Where did you get it?"

He jerks an eyebrow at her, expectant. Norrell has an idea it may be beyond her skill level, but that is only a guess. He could well be wrong. Why, then, would she own such a thing? A gift? A thing she aspires to be good at? If this is where she hopes to go with her magic then he is only too glad to disarm her before she can begin to use it!

II) Westminster

[knowstheworld]

Childermass reaches to close the door to Norrell's office behind him. Perhaps the other man has meetings, engagements he needs to be getting to, but Childermass has a feeling he might be hiding in here.

He had been there earlier in the day, of course, when that woman had accosted him outside the Night Council building in Westminster. He had been part of the crowd of security to subdue and be certain that she had not actually gotten to the other man. He had seen that it had shaken the other man, if not overall then certainly in that moment. But damned if he could catch a moment in private with him after that. Which is why he finds himself here, now. Shutting the door against further interruption.

"I must speak with you, sir," Childermass says, before he crosses the room and deposits himself in a chair across from the other man's desk.

[hurtfew]

Norrell has calmed down fractionally since his scare earlier, but part of that is the fact that he has been busy throughout the day. Busy enough that he has been distracted from the threat to his person, and thus temporarily forgotten about it.

Childermass appears and Norrell looks up at him with a frown, mildly irritated by the interruption but not enough to say much about it.

"Well?" he prompts, peering over his glasses at Childermass impatiently.

[knowstheworld]

Childermass doesn't particularly care whether he's bothering the other man or interrupting anything in particular. He's got a discussion to have with the man that he's already (clearly) held off for far too long already.

"How much further must this go?" he asks the other man, looking him straight in the face, watching for Norrell's reaction, his own expression blank, eyes piercing. He does not bother to explain himself. He's fairly certain that Norrell knows what he's talking about.

[hurtfew]

How much further? The question catches Norrell off guard, makes him blink a moment until he sets down his pen -- laces his hands together on his chest as he considers Childermass.

"As far as it must," he says simply. "You understand my goal is to rid London of dark and fairy magic. To make it respectable. That is what we are doing."

Yet -- yet Childermass has an objection, one which Norrell does not entirely understand. He has always known his goals, surely! Why would he object now?

i. open door session

[damnyank]

Even Jackson’s willing to admit he’d made a poor showing during the Croydon debacle. He’d pledged his assistance, and ten hardly lifted a finger despite making an appearance. He's just never been one to ally himself to any side without proper motivation. Sure, he might fight for the people he cares about, but they are few and far between. Fighting for a cause, for a coven—there’s a paucity of passion on his part, and the alliances and favors to be gained too nebulous for a man as practical as Jackson.

(Practical, says the drunkard.)

He should be ashamed, really, to come back to Norrell and show his face, but when does Jackson care about something as useless as shame.

Indeed, Jackson invites himself into Norrell’s study, carelessly pushing past anyone who’s ahead of him.

He plops himself comfortably in a chair in front of Norrell’s desk, and then proceeds to draw a cigarette from his breast pocket, gingerly, before lighting it with a spell.

“Have I ever told you about my grandfather?”

[hurtfew]

Norrell looks up sharply as Jackson invites himself in, pursued by a few nervous servants who tried to stop him. He holds out a hand to stop them, regards Jackson with a glower as he lights a cigarette. It doesn't do much good to his books, after all. After a few long moments of pointed glowering do nothing he sets down his pen and removes his glasses to let them hang on the chain.

"You have not," he allows, although the tone isn't one that displays much interest. Mostly irritation at the interruption, for now.

IV

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth managed to get out of the last crusade by being out of town, but now she reckons there's literally no way to escape Norrell's notice. She's been around the Circle, studying, attending his lectures regularly (and somehow not falling asleep...), he knows she's not just 'in the shower' or 'napping' or something else that would warrant her not answering her phone.

She knocks on his door and waits to be acknowledged before poking her head in. She's all smiles, pleasant demeanor, maybe he'll cut her some slack.

"I heard you needed to see me, Mr. Norrell."

Please don't send me out there again. Look how innocent my face is!

[hurtfew]

"Miss DeWitt!" he exclaims, as if genuinely pleased to see her -- for he is. Norrell may have poor feeling toward the general teaching of magic and supernatural things, but he loves to teach himself --- for Norrell loves to have an audience, loves to be listened to and loves to speak. That, and Elizabeth is an intrigue. She has great potential as a witch, and it pleases Norrell no end to be the one to nurture that. To have someone to speak to about magic who has learnt so little!

As much as it may tire Elizabeth, it is greatly pleasing to Norrell himself.

"Yes indeed. We have a great many things to discuss, not least of which is your future. You are aware of course of the great honour I have so recently been bestowed?"

[tearmeanewone]

It's hard not to be!

"Yes! Congratulations, that is quite the achievement."

She imagines. Honestly Elizabeth isn't much for politics, she keeps to her studies and keeps her focus on hiding. the idea that Norrell wants to discuss her future though is worrying her. Surely he can't be expecting her to do more than she already is...? No, no, she's far too inexperienced for that.