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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 By the evening they'll have withdrawn, and Norrell can have fun explaining to the families of the deceased that they died for a shithole like Croydon.

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Well there's a statement Eames didn't need to hear, and he looks at Finnick as though the guy just told him he'd burned down his home. As if he's not painfully aware of the situation already.

"Any other observations you'd like to share?" Eames responds tersely, "maybe that water is wet and birds have beaks?"

"Fire is hot," Finnick offers up flippantly, "and witches are stupid."

He crosses his arms and sighs. He's perfectly aware of the look on Eames' face but he pretends to pay it no mind. "I just wanted to make sure we're in agreement come the fifteenth. Personally, I plan to take out every one of them that I see."

Eames actually laughs, but it's the tired laugh of a man who is incredibly stressed out, and he drags a hand through his hair. "We're in the process of moving non-combatants out of the area and slipping them past the Council," he pauses to look at a sheet of paper on the table, frowning again, "and come Friday we kill as many of them as possible before we leave the area."

Finnick nods, glad to hear that the sentiment will be consistent.

"There's not too many more to get out of there, I hope. I'm eager to get this done."

"It'll be done by Friday." Eames raises an eyebrow as he considers options, "I'm having everyone ready to fight by Friday morning, it'll cut how much support they can rely on from their vampire allies."

"Good."

Finnick sighs as he looks around, bored and impatient to get started. Still, he came here with another question on his mind, and he doesn't have much more to say on the subject of Croydon.

"Any thought as to what's next?" he asks.

"We've tried being polite and playing by their rules, and they'd rather fight us then let their fellow witches have this shitty little borough." Eames shrugs a shoulder, "makes a person wonder if maybe it's time to be a little more aggressive."

Finnick smiles, cold and a little vicious. "Just what I like to hear," he says. "Maybe things will finally change if we strike a little fear in their hearts. They're too confident as is."

"Exactly." There's a glint of Finnick's viciousness reflected in Eames' expression, though he doesn't smile. He makes a broad, sweeping gesture instead, "if the mortals are clamouring for a war, let's give it to them."

Finnick smiles, like he's fantasizing about the downfall of these wretched Daybreak witches finally. After a moment it fades slightly, and he casts Eames a hesitant glance.

"We'll need more support," he says. "The courts aren't interested in investing too much into this realm. They're too wrapped up in themselves to consider what they might lose."

"That's the problem with the more long-lived among us. They think they can just outlive any mortal issue that comes their way." Eames sighs, he's not nearly so nearsighted. If they successfully block them from London, that only spreads. Across the country, potentially the continent. And if Redbright gets that stronghold on the UK's magical authority, she could put things in place that would last long into the future.

He folds his arms, eyebrows drawn together in thought, "but with the Council becoming more and more totalitarian by the day, support will be scarce. Moreso than already."

If he has to reach out to the werewolves he will break so many things, so help him.

Finnick feels the same impending doom, gnawing away at the edge of his mind. Something about being prevented from existing in the mortal realm is deeply troubling, and maybe it's just for the simple fact that he doesn't feel worthy of a peaceful existence in Faery. He wants to reclaim this place and take refuge here. It's a complicated relationship.

But in the here and now, thinking about their current situation, Finnick scoffs. "I never thought it'd be so dire to make friends with mortals," he says. He thinks back to his conversation with the Midnight witch just days ago, watching Norrell's witches clear out an antiques store for dark magic items. "Isn't there any way to trick Midnight into acting? It doesn't have to be a direct attack."

"Perhaps." Eames has been considering the same thing, but breaking a truce on this level isn't exactly an easy feat. Not in a way that couldn't be traced back to them or some other uninvolved party anyway. "They'd need to believe there's an immediate threat."

"As if this law against dark magic isn't an immediate threat," Finnick says, waving his hand dismissively. He thinks on it for a moment longer and then frowns at Eames.

"What are they like? I've only met one of them, and she was... young."

That's a nice way of putting it, right?

"So are the witches leading them." Eames sighs and folds his arms over his chest, considering the question. The entire circle is fragmented, is the real answer. Little cohesion or unity beyond a common oppressor. In no small part thanks to Redbright's efforts, but she's not the only issue there.

"... Witches who go to Midnight overwhelmingly are looking for freedom, and to be left alone." He frowns, "unsurprisingly their demographic tends to run a little... Young."

That and most of the older witches are dead or locked up or who knows what.

Finnick nods. It makes sense. The kind of dark magic users who were truly evil didn't usually make a point of organizing under a public banner, though there is a case to be made for Daybreak. Midnight witches just want freedom from that strict line of teaching.

"And Widdowson?" he asks. "What do you make of her?"

"Young, naive. Grabbing for power she doesn't fully understand." An airy gesture, he has no confidence in her leadership, but to stir the pot and keep Redbright on her toes? She's good enough. "She'll do for now, but she'll need to grow up sooner rather than later if she intends to keep leading her circle."

As he suspected. Finnick thinks to himself that they don't need her to lead, so much as they need her to be angry enough to push back. "Is there anything that would motivate her?" he says thoughtfully, lightly like they're talking about the weather. "Everyone has something that they can't compromise on... pride, the love she has for her coven..."

Both, is what comes to mind. Especially judging by the way she'd bristled when he'd suggested she could be naive, but one would be more easy to manipulate than the other, and moreover keep her followers supportive.

"She seems to think of herself as their protector, hence why the threat needs to be serious and immediate." He gestures around them, "but. If we could suggest to some members of her circle that her complacency with the Council's new laws means that perhaps she doesn't have their best interests at heart after all... That may push her into action."

Finnick's mouth twists into a wry smile and he raises an eyebrow at Eames.

"Sowing discord is so characteristic of the Unseelie," he says. "But I'd be willing to take on some of your court's strategies if it meant we'd be closer to our goal. Playing their little game of territories only seems to do so much."

Eames laughs, and judging by the way it suddenly bubbles out of him, it's the first time he's laughed genuinely in a while.

"Unfortunately, sewing daisies into our hair and morris dancing likely wouldn't do much to help us here." His amusement dies quickly though, and he sighs, "but you're right. Focusing this much on lines in the sand will only slow us down."

"And in case that fails - in case her followers are so naive and bright-eyed that they can't be swayed - I think we need a back up," Finnick says. He can do this much at least, decide what they need. When it comes to making up an actual plan, that's where he falls short. He makes up for it by being a very good fighter.

Eames nods, he's right. Especially after how everything's been lately, they can't afford to rest on their laurels and afford the first plan they come up with will work.

But right now he's got so much going on, he's co-ordinating so many things, he can't think what their backup would be. "I'll need some time to think about it," he says, sighing. "I can't come up with anything right now."

"After Croydon, then," Finnick says. "We have a long day ahead of us, and I don't think we should be distracted. Maybe something will come of this, and we won't have to do anything at all."

If only Norrell would push Midnight too far. If only he would cross that line. It might be easier to tempt him into breaking the truce, and then that would free up Midnight without any other need for meddling.

"Maybe," Eames says with another sigh. The only thing he's expecting from Croydon is a ruined suit, but something useful might come of it. "Either way moving forward after this is going to be a hell of a trial."

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thelittlemerman - 2016-01-31 23:37 (UTC) - Expand

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