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CROYDON 2: CROYDON HARDER

January 7th-14th: Once the purge really gets going, it's pretty obvious that Croydon's being targeted disproportionately. It's less of a surprise than some might like; the area's a source of numerous bruised egos - Eames' included - but more than that, every side involved clearly wants to put this to bed. Daybreak, unfortunately, has a lot more backing and more official channels to go through to get the upper hand. Numerous people are taken in by the Night Council on whatever charges of using dark magic can be used against them, and it leaves a not insignificant dent in their power. Clever, one might suppose, reduce the numbers before Daybreak - Norrell, let's all be honest here - send the bodies in to take the area. Eames has the fae on his side and the people in his employ do what they can to undermine this though. Moving people out of the area quickly and under the noses of the Council guardians sweeping the area, goods hidden, the odd person stored away safely in Faery. More than anything, it's a move of solidarity with those living here. A gentle suggestion that those witches, fae, metas, etc. in the area can trust him and his to look after them.

January 15th: This is a losing fight, and Eames makes it clear no one is obligated to join in before things start. There's too many extenuating circumstances to have a hope of keeping their hands on Croydon. Still. Eames is too frustrated with the current state of affairs to let it go easily, and he amasses a small militia of the like-minded. They may not be able to keep Croydon, but they can make it difficult as hell to take. The plan is simple: In the early hours of the morning, before the sun has risen, they'll attack. The intent was to avoid bloodshed last time, but this time the intent is clearly to kill as many as possible. By the evening they'll have withdrawn, and Norrell can have fun explaining to the families of the deceased that they died for a shithole like Croydon.

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He smiles a little broader, obviously amused by Norrell's warning and Eames' response is to close in on him with a punch aimed right at his face. Super rude, right?

"Sorry," he doesn't seem all that sorry though, "could you repeat that?"

He sees the swing, but rather than dodging properly he flinches and shrinks slightly out of the way. It's enough to make the punch not hit central, but hit it still does. Gilbert Norrell has never been punched before. He doesn't know how to take a hit, how to dodge, how to do much of anything in a fist fight. So he reels back, stumbles a step before holding out a hand to try and ward Eames off.

"W-wait!" he protests, other hand raised to cradle his face. "Please! Listen to me!"

"Why would I do that?" Eames asks, moving in another step toward Norrell, "planning to bargain for your life, are you?"

Unwarded, Eames reaches out to grab Norrell by his shirt, intending to pin him against the wall and take a proper look at this snivelling mess who's made himself such a pain in such a short amount of time. No interest in any deals the man might want to make, but he is certainly interested in hearing him plead for his life.

Norrell leans back as Eames reaches for him -- flails out a hand the curls it protectively toward himself as he's backed into a wall.

"You cannot trust Midnight!" he blurts, "Abigail! You cannot trust her! She told me!"

His words are a little breathless, frantic and perhaps not entirely coherent in their message yet -- but Norrell is trying to save his own life. He can barely get the words out fast enough at this point.

That's hardly a surprise, he'd expected double-dealing from the witches, but so soon? What a shame. And to go to Norrell of all people. Disappointing.

"Explain," Eames says gruffly, pushing Norrell roughly against the wall.

He flails as Eames pushes at him, trying to brace himself and keep distance between them.

"She planned to take the territory," he says, all in a rush. "To put it back in Mortal hands. She does not approve of the fae owning land! It's the truth! I expect she would have turned on you herself eventually!"

Edited 2016-01-26 22:12 (UTC)

Norrell's talking, but only half of Eames is really processing the information, mostly because he's less surprised by it then one might expect. He doesn't care much what she wants with the land or how she feels about the fae, the surprising thing is how quickly she went behind his back to do it-- did he really insult her that badly?

The other half of him is thinking hard about why he hasn't killed Norrell yet, and if anything this attempt to make himself seem useful only makes Eames want to do it more.

"How long ago was this?" Eames asks, watching Norrell's expression closely for anything odd. The man doesn't seem like the most capable liar, especially under duress.

"December!" he squeaks, "before the fight! She came to negotiate! You cannot trust her! You cannot trust Midnight!"

He squirms again, uncomfortable with being pinned, and every fibre of his being screams please let me go.

Maybe it's awful timing that Arthur finds them like this. He doesn't want to have to be the one to step in between Eames and the man he so desperately wants dead, but as soon as Arthur sees the man who can only be Gilbert Norrell pinned against the wall, he takes his gun out of its holster and jogs toward them.

"Eames!" he shouts, gun raised but not pointed at Norrell's face just yet. "Eames, put him down!"

Is this a joke. Is his entire life a joke. Eames makes a face like a teenager in their rebellious phase who's parents have just walked in. If he rolled his eyes any more powerfully it could probably cause a hurricane.

"I'm a little busy right now, Arthur," he calls back over his shoulder, totally pretending he didn't hear what Arthur said.

Norrell begins to squirm harder at the sound of Arthur's voice, at the sight of him coming closer.

"Childermass!!," he screams suddenly, and tries to free himself of Eames' grasp. "I am a member of the Night Council! You cannot treat me like this! Childermass!!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Arthur shouts, in a commanding tone, raising his gun a little higher. He fixes Norrell with a hard stare for a moment before he glances back at Eames. He's a few feet away over Eames' left shoulder, careful to watch Norrell's hands in case he goes for a wand or starts to do some sort of spell.

"Killing him's just gonna make it worse," he tells Eames. "Knock him out if you have to but don't kill him."

At the same time as Arthur shouts, Eames also takes the liberty of pushing Norrell against the wall again. It's just not a good time to be him. Especially with Eames considering what Arthur's saying, but he doesn't look like he's sold on it.

"I honestly feel like the longterm benefits outweigh the consequences," he glances over his shoulder at Arthur and then back at Norrell, "for starters this weasely little man won't be around anymore."

"You know Redbright will just replace him with someone else just as bad if not worse, and they'll use this as an excuse to push you out further. This would only be a half measure and the backlash could make all of it pointless."

Arthur's voice and hands are steady, and it's not just an act. This is a far less threatening situation than many others he's faced, and even though he knows Norrell must have some magic power to back up all his grandstanding, he's pretty confident in his ability to act quicker than the quivering man in front of him.

"Just don't kill him. It's not worth it."

Eames tilts his head at Norrell, considering this wimpy man for a moment while he thinks on the situation. Arthur's right and he hates it, because it'd be so simple to just kill the man now. But just offing him in an alley? That'd just further Redbright's crusade.

"You're right," Eames finally answers after a long moment of deliberation, "I shouldn't kill him."

Maybe rough him up a little (or a lot) before sending him on his way, that'd be fine right? After all, it's not murder.

Norrell knows that tone, and it is a tone that has a but in it.

He doesn't want to find out what that 'but' might mean. He squirms to try and get free again, shoving at Eames shooting a desperate glance at Arthur.

"You cannot do this! You cannot let him do this! Help! Childermass!"

Surely someone will hear him eventually? Oh, but he does not want to see him this way! The conflict is a painful one, pride versus fear.

Edited 2016-01-27 01:29 (UTC)

Childermass had indeed paused to discuss something with the driver, something about Mr Norrell's security, which he would have ensured if Mr Norrell had not wandered off on his own as he had. Childermass had been wary of the other man's disappearance but had not thought too much of it. At least not until the shouting had started. Screaming, he should say. In distress. Of his name.

He breaks into a run in the direction of Norrell's voice, and as he rounds the corner, the first thing he sees is the gun, armed and raised towards the other man. So he acts without thinking. Throwing a hand out towards the gun and pushing his magic through towards it as well, grabbing it and pulling it up and away from Mr Norrell, and out of the other man's hand if he doesn't have a good enough grip on it.

"You will let him go!" he growls at Norrell's two attackers.

Arthur's thrown enough by the sensation of his gun being pulled out of his hand that he lets go, and he knows better than to grasp at it. Instead, he turns to look at Childermass, and there's a hint of recognition as he pulls out a knife and holds it up toward him.

"Okay," he says, a little more urgently, "now it is really time to go."

Eames lets out the most exasperated of sighs, barely paying attention to Childermass' arrival beyond how annoying it is.

"Sure you don't want to stick around?" He says over his shoulder, "see who else fancies dropping by?"

Two witches with this much power is more than Eames is really up for dealing with after such a taxing day though. Childermass is clearly more combat-able, and having him around might bolster Norrell some. Best let him go while he's still too rattled to think offensively.

"Alright then," Eames fixes Norrell's collar and takes a step back, hands toward his manservant like a waiter showing someone to their table, "off you pop."

Norrell slides his way along the wall and scurries to Childermass' side as soon as he's released, eyes wide for a moment until -- buoyed by the minor victory -- his face paints into a scowl of fury.

"You will pay for this insult!" he declares, while at the same time mentally calculating how quickly he could cover up the evidence. If there is one thing Norrell dislikes above all else it is scandal, and being associated with any form of it. He cannot be seen in this state, so much as he could claim he won a battle. He cannot be seen to have been brawling.

Now that Childermass has a moment to look at the two attackers, he recognizes them each in turn. He is not fool enough to let his guard down, nor is he fool enough to really ask for a fight with either of them, especially not the fae, coming off of the loss of a territory like this. He has to wonder whether they are allied. They must be, finding them together like this.

He glances aside to make sure that Norrell is alright, but there seems no harm done if he's already yelling like he is. "Mr Norrell," he says, firmly, hoping that it might calm the man, for he knows well himself that the other man would not like to draw undue attention to the matter. He sweeps a hand aside suggesting that they should leave now, but it is not before he throws a glance at the two attackers besides.

"I do not know what it is you think that you were doing here, sirs," he says, roughly, his voice barely above a growl, "but if you do not make yourselves scarce as well then you will sincerely regret it."

Arthur glances at his gun on the ground, not willing to leave without it. He still has his knife pointed at Childermass, knowing he can throw it with decent accuracy, but the time it would take to pull back and then release it would open himself up for retaliation. He's not really looking to start a fight with these two - he's a human with a knife up against two powerful witches, he already knows how that will go.

Still, he's not leaving without that gun. Going for it would guarantee an attack on himself and maybe Eames as well, so he stays exactly where he is.

"I'm not going anywhere without my weapon. Give it back or leave first. Either way, you've already won this battle and we won't be coming back," he says firmly. Maybe speaking on Eames' behalf will keep him quiet. God knows the fae could get them both killed right now if he gives in to his more volatile instincts.

Eames has moved to the wall already, leaning side-on at the same spot he had Norrell pinned, arms crossed. He's not moving a damn foot out of here until they're gone, like hell is he turning his back on a witch.

"I won't attack while your back's turned," Eames amends, that and a gentle shooing motion should make his feelings on present matters clear enough, "you have my word."

He quiets, frowns over at the two attackers then at Childermass. He mislikes being silenced so, in truth, yet he would also quite like to leave himself as soon as possible.

"This will not be forgotten," he says finally, glowering at the two of them before leaving the way Childermass indicated, slowing a moment to wait for him before looking out another way through to where he needs to get to.

Childermass keeps his eye on the other man as he backs out of the alley after Norrell, for if he is being honest with himself, he does not trust the word of a fae any further than he might be able to throw him. But the gun stays where it is on the ground, as do the two men stay in their places in turn, and it is after a long and careful glance in their direction that he finally turns to sweep after the other man. He will know if they are being followed. And they can bet that he will not be nearly so lenient on them if they do.

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