undergrounds | GUARDIANS GONE WILD [ Active/ Open ]

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GUARDIANS GONE WILD [ Active/ Open ]

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! ]

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Faolan glances down at his own coffee, puzzled for a moment about how casual the other man is being about all this. He'd just been released from jail, isn't he exhausted? Hungry? Well, he supposes that's why he's stopped in the cafe, but why this one? Why not just go home?

"You don't have to," he says, which leaves it open for Lancelot to decide if he wants to get him anything or not. "I'm just surprised to see you here, is all. I didn't think they'd let you out so soon. They seemed pretty intent on getting to the bottom of all of this..."

"I'm sure they're still investigating," the fae says, and shrugs -- offers Faolan a bright smile again before ambling over to the counter. It leans on it as it chats to the woman behind it, who seems to giggle a little at one point before moving to make coffee -- fae-Lancelot smiling after her as she works, charm offensive maxed out.

"Sure you don't want another?" he prompts, still leaning back against the counter and lofting an eyebrow playfully. He doesn't appear to have paid, but maybe she's going to charge him... after she's made the coffee?

Faolan watches the exchange with a frown. There's something about the way that it's handled that he doesn't like, though he can't put his finger on why. As Lancelot turns to address him, he tries not to think that it might be because he's never actually watched the other man blatantly flirt with someone else like that. Because that's a lie, of course, there had been that woman at the party...

Faolan's mood sours further. What the hell. If Lancelot's buying. He'd watched over his dog for him, hadn't he? This was just repaying the favor. "Yeah, alright," he says. "Why not. Let's have another then."

The fae turns back to the barista to add Faolan's drink, stays leaned against the counter while she makes them then collects both to bring over.

Seemingly without paying, but who's counting?

"Here you go!" the fae says, dropping down into a seat beside Faolan and lifting its own drink in a mock toast. "To freedom!"

Faolan does notice that he hadn't seen the other man pass over any money of any sort, but maybe Lancelot has a tab...? Maybe she had offered him them for free? Faolan doesn't honestly know, but it's not that odd, all things considered.

He takes the drink that Lancelot sets down in front of him and takes a moment to kick his guitar case further underneath the table away from him, hoping to keep it hidden from him if he can. He raises his new drink with Lancelot in his mock toast, but there's still something that isn't sitting right with him. "To freedom," he echoes. "Lily will be happy to see you back. I did what I could, but I'm a poor substitute in the end, I'm afraid."

Who the fuck is Lily. Is that the dog? People keep talking about the dog. He thinks it's the dog. Assume it's the dog and carry on.

"Oh, I'm sure she's fine. Can you keep her a bit longer? I have some things to do."

You know, like not towing around someone else's dog while he's working. Besides which, dogs don't always like him. Fae thing. That, and they're noisy and irritating. Always getting into things you don't want them to.

If ever there were a red flag in Faolan's mind, it has just gone off. He narrows his eyes slightly at the other man, though he tries to play it off.

"I...suppose that I can," he says. "She won't be happy about it." He pauses for a beat, waiting for the other man to say something else, coo about his dog in the usual fashion that he does, but it doesn't come, and he's willing to bet that it won't for that matter. Something is off. Something is wrong, and he'd realized it before, but he's just getting to the point of it now.

"What sort of things to do?" he asks. "You've already been gone for a day and a half, Lancelot. The last time I saw you..." Another beat, before, "How's your head?"

He shrugs at that, because she'll live. She's a dog. The question, though, confuses him. He frowns slightly as he sips his coffee, curious what Faolan might be getting at.

"My head? It's fine, why?"

Did Lancelot have a hangover before, maybe? He hadn't seemed too much like the hangover type, but you never know. Might have been a secret party animal. He certainly was attractive enough to draw attention. Probably why he'd been taken to the other realm to begin with.

Faolan is trying not to let his reaction show on his face, but that answer says it all. Why should his head be bothering him? Because it had been bothering him for weeks now. Or so he'd said, at least. Maybe he's imagining this? Maybe this is another symptom?

"Are you sure that you're feeling alright?" he asks, sitting forward to press a hand to the other man's forehead. But he doesn't feel any warmer than he should, Faolan doesn't think. He sits back in his seat with a frown. He needs to ask a good question. Something that only Lancelot would know the answer to. He tries to dig quickly for something, anything...

The fae's eyebrows loft sharply as Faolan leans forward and feels at his forehead, surprised by the action, and it studies him as he sits back -- offers him a slow smile and sips at its coffee again.

"Fine," it answers, "hoping I'd be a little flustered? You can touch me again if you like, don't need an excuse. Go on."

It winks playfully, smile becoming something more of a smirk now.

Faolan blinks. Blinks. He has been smirked at, smiled at, and even debatably flirted at a little from Lancelot, but he's never winked at him, and he's never come onto him like this.

He's momentarily lost for words, and even when he speaks up, he's stumbling over himself. "Lancelot, I... I just--..." Was trying to feel for his temperature. Which Lancelot would have recognized, even put up with, even if he might have had the same questioning himself, if it was entirely necessary. More and more, Faolan is realizing that the person he's sitting across from, however he might look like Lancelot, it isn't the man he knows at all.

And there's only one way of testing it. He swallows and tries again. "It's. My birthday tomorrow," he says. A beat, before, "I'm having a party. At my place. But. I didn't think you'd be out before then, so I hadn't told you sooner..."

A party! The fae's expression lights up at that, enthusiastic about the idea of possible free food and drink. Only it would have to come up with a gift to bring Faolan, perhaps. Right. It could probably conjure something. Hmm.

"A party?" it echoes, buying time to think. "What time?"

Maybe it could bring alcohol. That's a fairly universal drink, right?

If this were Lancelot, he would have known that Faolan's birthday had already passed. He would have raised eyebrows at the question of Faolan throwing a party, never mind at his place. But the man sitting across from him doesn't even bat an eyelash at it. In fact, he seems to be pleased by the idea. Which is really all of the answer that Faolan needs.

He swallows. Hard. And reaches for his coffee, trying to play it cool and not let on how shaken he is in this moment. He has to be quick-thinking about this, though. Maybe... He can use this to his advantage? Maybe if he doesn't let on that anything is wrong, he can set up a trap? "I was thinking...eight?" he says. That should give the rest of the day and the next to prepare. And to hopefully clear the real Lancelot in time for the showdown. Hopefully... "How's that sound for you?"

There's something just off enough about Faolan's reaction to clue the fae in that not all is well, but not enough to tell it why. Maybe he's shy? Maybe suspicious? Maybe trying to get him on his own for something other than a party? It toys with its coffee thoughtfully, cocking its head.

"Who else is going to be there?" it prompts, "or will it be a private party, just the two of us?"

Faolan drops his head slightly, his eyes on the table as a healthy flush spreads unbidden across his cheeks, down his neck, and even up to the tips of his ears. Christ, he thinks to himself, as he prepares his answer. At least the emotion behind the reaction is entirely genuine.

"I, ehm," he says, stumbling over his words slightly, toying with his coffee in his hands. He has to remind himself that this isn't Lancelot, regardless of how much it may look like him. He's just setting a trap. Regardless of what he says or does, it doesn't matter. And moreover, if he plays in the favor of the impostor's assumption, Lancelot will never know. Right...? "Well, I had been hoping..." he says, trailing off slightly, wondering if he can actually make himself go through with this after all.

Edited (spelling) 2016-02-08 17:15 (UTC)

"Ahhh, you'd been hoping," the fae says, and it leans an elbow onto the table -- toys with its coffee with one hand while subtly crowding Faolan. It's expression paints itself into something of a playfully amused leer, an expression that feels wrong on Lancelot's features. "And what had you been hoping?" it teases, bumping one leg against Faolan's under the table.

Faolan swallows. Audibly. "I was rather hoping..." he says, trailing off again to rally himself as the other man bumps his leg against his underneath the table. God, god. If only this were Lancelot, if only... But of course it isn't, it isn't, and he really needs to focus.

"I was rather hoping that we might be able to make it just the two of us," he admits, toying with his coffee. "Although I suppose that that would rather depend on your availability. It's like I said, I. Didn't know what to think, after the arrest."

"Oh, I'm available," it answers, eyes half-lidding a little as it considers this. Its voice takes on a subtle, hypnotic quality -- glamour rising up and ebbing out. "I could be available for you. We could spend some private time together. If you help me with a few things first. Would you like that? Just the two of us. Just the way you wanted."

Give in the fae thinks to itself, agree. Make a bargain. If the human is that desperate, after all, its will should be easy to break -- and it'd be nice to have a little minion to run about with.

Faolan feels his pulse speeding up as the other man speaks, and if he weren't wearing Lancelot's face, that would be setting off a lot more bells in Faolan's head than it is. Even still, there's something about his words that give him pause. 'If you help me with a few things first.'

He checks to make sure that he hasn't been sitting with his mouth hanging open as he stares at the other man before he speaks up. "What... What kinds of things?" he asks, unable to help the way that he's watching his every move, nor able to help his reaction even despite the fact that he's very aware that they're in the middle of cafe during lunch hour.

"Oh, nothing that I wouldn't be willing to do myself," it answers, gently avoiding a direct answer. "All you'd have to do... is promise. It would be as easy as anything... "

It leans fractionally closer, just enough to apply a little persuasive pressure and invade Faolan's personally space more. To remind him of what it is he wants, smile painted as easy and tempting as the fae can manage.

Faolan lets out a shaky breath as the other man leans closer. Yes, his mind is screaming. God yes this is everything he wants it's right there in front of him all he has to do is say yes and he can have it. But there is one solid, logical corner of his brain that still objects. This isn't Lancelot. He can't let himself think like that. It's more than just his desire for the other man at play, there has to be. Magic? Is it fae?

"Promise...what?" he asks, breathily, his voice just above a whisper. Resisting the persuasion as hard as he can, although lord have mercy, isn't it tempting to just give in. Give in and have it all...

The fae twitches for just a second, annoyed by having to repeat itself, but schools again quickly -- widens its eyes as innocently as it can and smiles.

"Promise to help me in return," it says, 'that's all. It's not so hard. Friends help each other all the time. Don't you want to help me? It'll be fun. We'll always have fun."

The fae is being terribly persistent, and Faolan isn't certain how well he can stand up to such persuasion. The fae is making it difficult for him to want to stand up to it, in truth. It would be so easy to give in. Sure, it might not be Lancelot, but what are his chances with Lancelot anyway? This fae is almost the same -- if he says yes, then he could have it all. He could have everything.

"I..." Faolan says, but is broken off from his thought by the sound of...growling? He blinks and turns to look at where the noise is coming from. There's a table not too far off where a woman is sitting with a small dog who had been, up until she'd sat down, contently dozing in her large handbag. It continues its frenzied growling and yapping until the woman, looking rather embarrassed and ashamed by the inconvenience she's posing on the cafe, makes a hasty getaway.

But it's enough to break Faolan's trance. "I don't make promises unless I'm certain I'll be able to keep them," he says, sitting up straighter in his seat from where he'd been slowly leaning his way more and more towards the other until then.

Instantly the magic drops and the fae turns and shoots the retreating woman and dog a malevolent scowl. It had been doing so well. Turning back to Faolan it's lips curl into a hint of a snarl before it controls it.

"You're making a mistake," it says simply. "I could give you what you want. Better than what you want."

Faolan flinches slightly as the other man all but snarls at him. It's an expression that he has never seen on Lancelot's face, and certainly never directed at himself. Whatever desire had been rising within him before is quickly dampened by the knowledge that this is not the man he knows, the man that he... Well. It's not who he wants it to be, at least.

And it's not being very subtle about the fact that it isn't either. Faolan tries to play that he hasn't caught on, but he's not sure how much longer he can work this game. "I don't know what you mean," he says, sitting back in his chair and reaching for his coffee once more.

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