GUARDIANS GONE WILD [ Active/ Open ]

[knightscode]

i) The Build up [ Locked to Faolan ]


It was a normal enough Monday for Lancelot. Or, it had been. He'd gotten up, gone to work, caught up on things he'd missed, answered some emails, dealt with a minor fracas near the station when someone turned suddenly to jump lanes after realising they were in the wrong one and scraped another person's car.

He'd not even been home that long when the door went, still half sipping water to try and calm a headache threatening again and playing with Lily. It isn't really late, truth be told, but part of him really just wants to grab something to eat and relax. Whenever his doorbell goes it rarely results in him relaxing.

Lancelot sips a little more water, the doorbell goes again.

Defeated he sighs, recaps the bottle he was drinking from and accompanies Lily to the door.

When he opens it his expression does something complicated, a flip from 'oh' to 'ah' to 'hang on, why are you here?'

"Faolan?" he manages, and inwardly hopes this isn't about to begin another round of Faolan angrily beginning a tirade followed by Lancelot's headache worsening and furniture moving.


ii) The Jail Bird


In truth, Lancelot isn't exactly worried. He isn't exactly worried because he hasn't done anything wrong. He knows he hasn't. He has a lot of witnesses who'd testify he was, in fact, at work or shopping or some-such rather than wherever he was meant to be murdering people.

The problem is the fact that people have, equally, given an exact description of him doing these things.

Magic.

It's the only answer, and Lancelot knows less than he'd like about magic.

He certainly doesn't know about any sort of magic that would somehow enable a person to look like him and do this, nor does he know why anyone would. To discredit him? Or Daybreak? Or the Night Council? There's no shortage of options, but that's hardly a reassuring thought.

Luckily he gets the impression Sylvia is fairly sure he isn't lying, but equally she isn't just letting him out. He might not be lying, but -- unsettling as it is -- that isn't proof he hasn't done something awful unwilling.

So here he is, Lancelot -- Metropolitan Police Office and Guardian for the Night Council. In jail. He wishes he at least had something to pass the time while he waits it out. After all, surely someone will catch the true culprit soon? Surely they will find evidence it isn't him?

He's mentally in the middle of making a list of things to consider, people he may have upset, factions who might dislike him etc when he hears someone approaching. Lancelot himself is a little tired and dishevelled but he perks up at the sound of footsteps, inwardly hoping for news, and stands to approach the bars of his cell.


iii) The Free Bird [ Pick a location to meet the fae! ]


The fact that Lancelot was a reasonably harmless, friendly sort of person makes the fae's job a whole lot easier.

Few people were rarely scared of Lancelot, and few suspected him of anything sinister. He had plenty of friends in and out of the supernatural community, and although that did mean suspicion raised quickly once it began work it also meant that people were loathe to believe the rumours.

If anything, it was beginning to wonder why it hadn't done this before.

The fae's glamour was perfect. It looked like Lancelot, its voice was Lancelot's voice and its smile was his smile. It was missing his dog, but it always had a reason if anyone asked. It helped that Lancelot always had an aura of fae magic about him too, which meant that the fae's own magic did not seem out of place to those who could sense it.

Things are a little trickier once the real Lancelot is arrested, of course, but that's neither here nor there. It can brazenly tell people that -- oh, no no! It wasn't him who was arrested! There's a fae about, you see, that's made itself look like him. Good job they caught it!

It's trickier with people who know Lancelot well, but an easy smile often disarms them quickly.

When that doesn't work, there's always a little good old fashioned violence to escape.


iv) The Chase [ Late on Wednesday onward ]


Lancelot is entirely glad to be out of jail, but entirely less glad that the thing is still out there causing trouble.

Still, he's a Guardian -- thankfully he hasn't been fired. Which means it's his job to keep the peace, and he absolutely intends to keep the peace by stopping the creature pretending to be him.

He arms himself, dresses casually with a stab vest hidden under his shirt and begins to try and track it down.

The problem now, however, as much as the fae itself is the people who met it. It's done all sorts of violent, awkward and incredibly strange things in his name -- including starting a tab at a few places. Lancelot secrets away a silver knife as he picks his way through the streets. His headaches have begun to slowly clear, at least, and now that he finally understands what they are it helps. If he can sense magic, then maybe he can sense the fae before he sees it. Maybe that will help him track it.

Which means he's so focused on trying to sense things (which, unfortunately for him, he isn't very good at yet) that he nearly bumps into someone in the narrow alleyway -- lifts his hands quickly in supplication just in case they're angry about it.

"Ah -- forgive me, please, I was miles away."


[ ooc; Plot details here if you missed it! ]

Comments

THE BUILD UP

[reticence]

It'd been a relatively normal day for Faolan as well. He'd been sitting in the main room of Hillingdon House doing some catching up on his work and not really paying the rest of the folk in the place much mind, idly listening in as they'd chatted to each other about the various news on the underground. He might have even missed it if he hadn't finished his most recent cup of coffee and had been making the move to get another. A murderer, they say. Rogue fae. But as their description pans out, a sinking feeling settles in Faolan's chest. He'd recognize a man like that. Hell, he knows where such a man lives. And Lancelot isn't exactly quiet about who he is. He's half willing to bet that someone else might reach the same conclusion.

He heads off almost immediately towards Lancelot's. He has to check in with him. He has to warn him about the bounty. How, if it isn't a match, he's close enough to the description for there to be concern. It couldn't possibly be him that they're looking for. ...could it?

He doesn't care how many times he has to ring the bell. He'll let himself in if he has to. Once again he's reached the other man's door without calling him. He thinks about calling him now, if he keeps ignoring him like this. Maybe he's working? But no. Faolan's stuck around him long enough to have his schedule somewhat memorized at this point. He should be here...

He lets out a breath as the door finally opens and Lancelot warily peers out at him. Faolan glances behind him as if searching to see if he's been followed before slipping in the door. Without having been invited, it should be noted -- usually he at least waits for that much. There's no time now, however, and he's not about to give Lancelot the opportunity to shut the door in his face. (Not that he expects he will, but there's a first time for everything.)

"I need to talk to you," he says.

[knightscode]

He blinks in surprise as Faolan forces his way past, grabbing out for Lily's collar to keep her close and closing the door to keep out the cold.

Well, this is... different. It certainly seems like it isn't going to help his headache.

Letting Lily free he paces through, uncapping his water slowly as he takes in Faolan's demeanour and taking a sip.

"Well, I'm listening. What's wrong?"

Is Faolan in trouble? He's nerves and hasty behaviour certainly points toward that. Nothing big, Lancelot hopes. He's not so sure how much leverage he has if Faolan gets in deep. The Night Council's laws and the Guardian oath can be restrictive.

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't miss the way that the other man seems to be steeling himself for...well, him, and he winces at that. He glances towards the door and then back again, hesitant for a moment, at contrast with his brashness seconds earlier.

"Sorry," he says, awkwardly. Not knowing quite how to explain that he didn't want to give the other man the choice to refuse this conversation, so just dropping it after another moment. "Something's come up. There's a bounty out, and I think you should know about it." He pauses for a moment, noticing the way the other man's sipping his water at him, and winces further. He really has to make a note to call ahead of himself next time.

"How's your head?" he derails for a moment. Figuring he should probably gauge that much before he continues further.

[knightscode]

"Sore, but not as bad as before. I don't think I'm about to black out any time soon, if that's what you mean."

He sips more water, frowning a little at Faolan's hesitation. What might make Faolan behave this way? So awkward, looking over his shoulder? Something suddenly occurs to Lancelot and he pauses, eyes widening a little.

"Tell me this bounty isn't on you?"

iii - THE FATED PARK

[tearmeanewone]

It's another nippy day in around Westminster, which means that Elizabeth is, again, enjoying the day with a cup of coffee and a book in her favorite park. Since she'd last met Lancelot there, and they'd had a nice and friendly conversation, she's hoping that maybe the meeting could be repeated. If coincidence was on their side, at least. If not... well, Elizabeth liked the park.

Coincidence, of a different and terrible sort, is on her side today. She sees Lancelot coming down the path-- no Lily, though. Elizabeth wonders vaguely where she is before she raises a hand to wave.

"Lancelot!"

[knightscode]

The fae, of course, has no idea who Elizabeth is. It can, however judge two things -- one, she's pretty, and two she's quite young.

It can bluff its way through, if it needs to. What's the good of being a fae if you can't use a little glamour to get through?

"Hello!" It says, and greets her with a bright smile. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

It didn't. It doesn't know it's where Lancelot and Elizabeth met, doesn't even know her name for that matter.

[tearmeanewone]

"You'd think I'd choose other places to have my lunch, but you would be wrong. I'm a creature of habit, obviously," she jokes, smiling right along with Lancelot. The fae definitely has it down, Elizabeth doesn't feel like anything is off.

"Where's Lily?"

[knightscode]

It's a very good question, one which the fae has absolutely not answer to. It upkeeps the winning smile, gives a little bit of a shrug. Is that the dog? it wonders, Or is that something else?

Make up something generic, she'll never know.

"Oh, you know, bit tired and not fond of the cold. Thought I'd just take a walk myself." Now, change the subject before she can question that. "You look well!"

This may be accompanied by a slightly leering smile, which implies that well may also mean pretty.

ii The Jail Bird

[brightwitch]

This entire affair has caused Sylvia far more trouble than she would like. She knows it isn't Lancelot; he doesn't have to worry about that. At first she thought he was under a spell, which was why they had to imprison him. But her witches found nothing wrong. Then the next day she heard a report that the rogue Guardian had struck again – while Lancelot was trapped in his cell.

A copycat.

So she approaches the cell, accompanied by two guards, and folds her arms.

"I have good news and bad news." As she speaks, one of the guards steps forward to unlock the door. "Good news: you're free to go. The bad news is that you have a doppelgänger. It attacked again this morning, right here in Westminster. It could be a shapeshifter, or a witch using an illusion spell, but we think it's a fae. Come out, I have something for you."

The guard who has unlocked the door steps aside so that Lancelot can leave the cell. Silently, he holds out a crowbar for Lancelot to take. There's nothing fancy about it, nothing magical. But it is made of iron.

[knightscode]

Lancelot approaches the bars as he spots Sylvia, eyes wide with curiosity as he listens. Good news and bad news, she says, and his stomach flips a little.

"It attacked again?" he echoes, moving back for the door to be opened. He supposes he should be relieved, to know he's in the clear, yet all the same it makes him uneasy to know someone is doing such a thing while wearing his face. The guard holds out the crowbar and Lancelot takes it, looking down at it a moment before stepping clear of the cell.

"It would make sense for it to be a fae. For those who can feel magic it would be harder to tell the difference, although... Well, I suppose there are plenty of reasons why." He lifts his eyes from the crowbar to Sylvia, considering this a moment before pulling himself together. "I hope this has not caused you too much trouble, Miss Redbright. I will do my best to see it comes to an end."

[brightwitch]

Her mouth thins at the mention of causing trouble, but she doesn't comment. Sylvia glances over at the second guard, who holds out his mobile phone, not for Lancelot to take but to show him the screen. On it there's a map, zoomed in on an area of the city.

"The fae was last seen here, less than an hour ago," she explains. "There are already rumours flying around that this is part of Norrell's purge, that you have been killing innocent people. If we don't put a stop to it, I'm afraid this will cause you far more trouble than me. Go now. Kill your impersonator and clear your name. We'll deal with the rest."

[knightscode]

Her lack of response, the way she thins her lips, that is all Lancelot needs to know the answer. His eyes lower self-consciously, feeling a little ashamed to be the cause of so much trouble -- even if directly. Yet at the motion of the phone being held out he focuses again, squints at the screen and tries to memorise the names of the roads -- mentally cross-referencing them to try and workout how he can get there quickest.

Sylvia's words make him startle, though, and he blinks at her in surprise -- takes a slow breath. Norrell's purge. Of all the things -- why on earth would he do such a thing, let alone in the name of Norrell's purge? He nods once, fingers tightening around the iron, and tries to steady himself.

"Of course," he says, and he feels a little like a reprimanded child being given extra credit work. Make it up to me with this thing and we'll say no more about it. "I will do my best to make sure it is done quickly and quietly."

III (The Loyal Hound Pub)

[protagonized]

It may not yet be one o'clock in the afternoon, but Simon tells himself that being drunk on cider and cheap lager in a seedy pub on a Wednesday is his right as an Englishman.

Anything to make himself feel less like a failure.

He looks up from his drink long enough to order another (and a plate of chips because he can't remember the last time he ate solid food) when he spots a familiar face.

"Lancelot!" he calls a little too loudly. "Brilliant. You can buy me another drink. Then we'll be even."

[knightscode]

The fae has absolutely no who Simon is, but that doesn't matter. Simon clearly knows Lancelot, and apparently owes he owes him a drink.

It doesn't particularly care about a minor debt, but it can play along. The kid looks at least partially drunk already, and getting him a little more drunk might be fun. Drunk humans cause chaos, and no fae worth the title ignore the opportunity for a little chaos.

"Done!" it replies, and winks at him, "pick your poison!"

[protagonized]

"Scotch. Something expensive since my friend here is buying."

Simon throws his arm around Lancelot in what he imagines is a brotherly way, though the way he says 'friend' is tinged with malice. The way Simon sees it, Lancelot owes him for not picking up his phone that night everything went to hell. The drink only partway makes up for it.

"Some Guardian you are," he mutters when the barman has his back turned. "I nearly got stabbed to death by a fucking hunter a few nights ago. Did you know that?"

[knightscode]

It gestures to the bartender to get their attention, orders the scotch while asking (with a wink, and a possibly perceptible hint of magic, for them to put it on his tab).

The touch is peculiarly off-putting, but the question catches the fae's attention again. It brightens -- perhaps not the normal reaction to such a thing, but who's counting? -- and considers Simon curiously.

"I didn't!" it exclaims finally, "did you stab them first?"

ii

[whatmatters]

Ringer stops a couple meters short of the bars, glancing to the officer who escorted her as the woman takes up a nearby post. It's clear that they won't be getting more privacy than that. Begrudgingly, the girl moves forward to close some of the distance, out of reach of the man, but close enough to hopefully not be entirely overheard.

The day before, Lancelot had seemed not to remember her at all and had instead spent his time flirting, as if she was a trophy in a bar to take home at the end of the night. Now he was in jail. The two things were both incongruous with her previous encounters with the man and, quite frankly, a bit worrying in general.

After a short silence, she shifts her weight before speaking. "Which Lancelot are you?"

Ringer has no idea there are literally two of them out in the world at present. To her, it's likely a curse, mental illness, or some other affliction in the same mind and body that's making him act as different people. Because her last meeting with him wasn't an act. There was nothing of the man she had worked with before in the one she had encountered yesterday.

[knightscode]

'Which Lancelot'?

The question throws him a moment, makes him debate how to even answer. How to even parse the question.

"One who didn't know what was going on until he was arrested," he says finally. He studies Ringer curiously, frowns a moment in thought. "Do you really think there's... another? Or -- They've been testing, too. In case something was... done to me."

[whatmatters]

"Done to you?" She echoes questioningly. It makes sense for him to assume that it's an external presence and not his own mind betraying him. It also smacks vaguely of suspicion, that he's so quick to blame someone else for his behaviors. Still, it seems unlike him and she can't really fathom any reason for the man to drop his facade with her the other day if, in fact, it is all some master plan.

"Do you remember our talk yesterday?" Ringer asks after a pause, knowing the answer before he speaks it.

ii

[livesarejuststories]

"Hello there." Lacy offers a small, almost embarrassed smile. She presents a business card when she gets close enough.

Lacy Brook
head writer
tomorrowshistoryblog.wordpress.com

020 7946 0550

How she got in, well, that's anyone's guess. But she's here, a member of the press, complete with her phone, which she's just fished out of her pocket.

"I'll go away if you say no, but-- I don't suppose I could get an interview? Get your side of the story out there? Don't worry. No one outside of the supernatural community can access it."

[knightscode]

Lancelot wasn't expecting visitors he didn't know, and especially not a... journalist? Is that what she is? The feel of her magic prickles at him and makes his head hurt, but he's still unused to what such a feeling means -- can't tell witch magic from fae of any sort.


"An... interview?" he echoes, uneasy. "Forgive me but... I'm not so sure I would be allowed to."

How did she get in here? He's fairly sure Sylvia wouldn't want someone interviewing a Guardian accused of going on a rampage.

[livesarejuststories]

"An interview," she replies, giving a nod and a smile. "People don't know what's going on. They're scared, and that's only going to make everything worse. So, I want to provide them with the story and how to protect themselves."

All of it true. Not, perhaps, the whole truth, but--

"I'd like to let you speak for yourself."

THE FREE BIRD

[reticence]

Faolan sits by himself in a cafe, nursing a coffee and picking at a sandwich that he had only really ordered because he should eat, but not because he wants to. He's worried about Lancelot, worried about how long he might be in jail. Worried about how long he's going to have to watch over Lily for him -- his first foray in attempting as much the night before hadn't gone nearly as well as he would have liked. She'd been nervous and cagey and had spent most of the night pacing and looking for Lancelot in every corner of the flat she could reach. As Faolan lay awake and listened to her padding around he wondered whether she might settle if he could do more for her. Something soothing? Maybe he should play for her...

So he'd headed out that morning to swing by his flat to pick up his guitar, and he's just heading back now, but his first cup of coffee is wearing off and after the night he's had, he needs this next one. He's half stashed the guitar case underneath the tablecloth out of habit, both to keep it out of the way as well as so that he doesn't have to answer any questions about it. Which is probably for the best that it's safely tucked out of the way, as he nearly spills his coffee and jumps out of his skin when he spots a familiar face stepping in to the cafe as well.

"Lancelot??"

[knightscode]

The fae hadn't expected to be recognised in the coffee shop. It's been really quite busy, and at that particularly moment in time is really quite hungry. It takes a second to react to its supposed name, half turns finally to stare down Faolan blankly before twitching a questioning smile.

"Hello!" it answers brightly, but there's something of a question to it -- what do you want? Can't a fae con people out of coffee and food in peace?

[reticence]

Faolan finds himself standing, staring at the other man, momentarily lost for words. Whatever he'd expected, he hadn't thought that Sylvia would let him out that fast. Had they been working all night? Not that he isn't grateful to see the other man, but.

"I thought you said that they were going to keep you," he says, baffled. "To run the tests. Have they finished already?" How long had it even been? Less than twenty-four hours, by Faolan's own estimation of things.