undergrounds | To hide away, hide away

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To hide away, hide away

1. SPY TACTICS [OPEN]
Ringer realized not long ago how objectively little she knew about the various factions she was dealing with. While Reznik had taught her the basic tidbits of each, their strengths and weaknesses, their loose affiliations, there were disputes and alliances forming that she found herself tragically ignorant to and often surprised by. For these reasons, she made the choice to set her more aggressive protective hunting aside for the moment to instead begin spying on people.

It didn't matter so much what significance the person held in their respective faction. She was trying to learn relationships between factions, who belonged to which, and so on. Sometimes it meant accidentally following a human who wasn't involved in any way. Most of the time, however, it meant following people she knew to be witches, werewolves, fae, and so on. Anyone who might be interesting.

The girl wasn't deliberately provocative in her pursuits, but she wasn't meticulously careful either. After all, she had no training for this kind of thing specifically. Ringer lurked in shadows and tried to follow a block or so behind, tried to appear distracted and caught up in her own world, and simply hoped that was enough. It was only a matter of time before someone caught on.

2. CAFE RESEARCH [OPEN]
Along with following people at night and in between her studies at uni, Ringer spent her free time studying. After the library became a tomb of isolation, she opted instead of the noisier and more oblivious patrons at the cafe. She turned up almost every day to grab a table in the corner or near to, ordering a tea and occasionally a scone or the like, laptop open on one half of the space in front of her while the other was filled with a book, or two, or three. For the casual observer, it would look like research for a paper, perhaps for a class on mythology or media. For those in the know, it might be obvious, but that only helped her to begin making more allies - or enemies.

3. GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN [CLOSED to Annie, early Feb]
All work and no play makes Ringer a dull girl. After a pleasant, albeit short, chat with Annie in the street, Ringer had done something rather un-Ringer-like and invited the girl over to hang out. She ordered some food from the Indian place down the lane, had a couple bottles of wine on standby, and had even ensured her television was prepared to play movies that they could rent if they chose. She didn't really know how things like this worked, but had heard enough stories and seen enough films to have an idea.

When the time approached, Ringer double-checked that her apartment was clean and that no signs of her real name were about for casual consumption. It wouldn't be hard to find if Annie went digging, but Ringer was hoping she wasn't that kind of acquaintance. The risk wasn't great enough for her to be concerned. After the final sweep, she settled in with awkward anticipation, waiting for Annie to arrive.

4. 'I LOVE DOGS' [CLOSED to James, mid Feb]
Ringer drank tea every day, like any good Brit should. She took it where she could get it, for the most part, and it never occurred to her to question why the one she drank this morning tasted any differently than the usual beyond trying a new cafe. Even when she began to notice that she was feeling off and some of her thoughts seemed new and not entirely justified, it never entered her mind that she might have been cursed or poisoned - or simply consumed a love potion.

She didn't know exactly why she felt compelled to visit James Memon at work. Objectively, it seemed like a terrible idea. There was no way of knowing how many of his colleagues were also members of the supernatural and it wasn't as if she had any special relationship with the man to merit her appearance, despite her one-time claim of being family. So when the secretary asked why she wished to see Mr. Memon, she said the first thing that popped into her head: "He's been talking to me about a case. He should be expecting me."

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Faolan falters slightly, uncertain of what she means by her question. She'd offered him the opportunity to crash in her apartment whenever she liked, she'd given him the option of leaving clothes in the drawers there, if he wanted to. What...did that mean to her, if not. Well, something resembling a friendship, of sorts? Had he been mistaken?

"I..." He pauses for a moment, hesitant and unsure how to proceed himself, before he carries on as best he can. Though his voice drops somewhat lower -- they are in a public place, after all. And he's never been very good about talking about his thoughts or feelings either. "Look, I'm. Sorry. If I've done something to upset or offend you. If it was about that case..." He trails off, knowing that it had been rough for all of them.

"It was," she cuts him off before he can continue or elaborate. "Is."

She lets out a small sigh and pushes her hair back in an awkward gesture, trying to settle herself and not think about their failure. Sometimes what happens is about being in the wrong place at the wrong time and it's no one's fault. This was one of those situations, in a way. But it also reminded her of how ignorant and unprepared she was and spurred her to be better.

"What do you want?" She asks after a moment, sounding weary if anything. "I told you you can stay if you need to. This doesn't change that. Do you need something else? Food, money, information? Tell me what you need and I'll do my best to supply it."

Faolan hesitates for a moment, wondering if that's how he comes across to her. He may be Hillingdon Clan Leader, but she knew him before all of that, and the new(ish) title obviously doesn't affect her opinion of him whatsoever.

Or maybe it does. "Listen, don't." He runs his hand through his hair. "What happened... We did the best we could. Don't blame yourself for what we couldn't manage. None of it was your fault." And Faolan blames himself over all of them, for the loss of the children. The ones that they hadn't been able to save. He'd been the lead on it, after all. It was his responsibility. And they had done some good. Although it had been obvious, from the reaction of Lancelot and Ringer alike, that it hadn't been enough. Not for them, at least. He hadn't been enough.

"I know," she replies honestly. Ringer meets his gaze straight on, not wishing or bothering to hide anything from him for the moment. "I don't blame myself. I want to be better as a result of objectively recognizing my skill set isn't where it needs to be."

She pauses, gestures at the books that are all about the various races and politics between the factions, and then settles her hands into her lap again. Well, as long as they're being honest. "You blame yourself. Which means you're obsessing about it and either you blame us too or you feel responsible for us. You're wrong. And I don't want to deal with the look that accompanies either one."

He shrugs slightly in the face of such direct honesty from her, because it's better than flinching he supposes. "Maybe I do," he agrees. "Feel responsible for you." He tilts his head at her slightly. "Shouldn't I? I did get you involved in the matter in the first place, I was running point..."

He trails off for a moment before continuing on to perhaps what really bothers him the most. "I'm Hillingdon Clan Leader. And I didn't know a thing about what I was doing." He shrugs again, reaching out to toy with his coffee mug, eyes fixed on it as he admits to her, "Still don't, really."

"You made an offer to include me and I accepted, understanding the situation and the risk involved." Ringer sighs, having wanted to avoid almost this exact conversation. She leans back, the literal gesture helping her with the metaphorical need for distance from the situation. "You were a good leader on the mission."

Allowing the silence to settle between them for a moment, Ringer reaches out to take a sip of her now tepid tea. His words are something she simultaneously understands and fears. In spite of herself, she looks up to and trusts the man more than she should. If he's insecure about his own position and abilities, she wonders what hope she'll have.

"No one does," she says finally.

"It's been years since Hillingdon had a leader involved with the Clan. There aren't expectations beyond not screwing us over. It's a low bar. I think you pass it." There's the smallest emphasis on 'think,' as if she might actually be teasing him. It's hard to tell with Ringer. In her normal tone, as if there is no joke, she continues. "Either you're making things worse for the Clan and should resign or you're not making things worse, so you should keep trying."

She pauses, then adds in a far more hesitant tone, "That's as a leader. As a.. an ally, I don't trust what the Night Council and Daybreak are doing to the fae, which means I have a hard time trusting the people who work with them."

Faolan sits quietly as she responds to his insecurities. And he might have known her for a while now, but he doesn't understand whether she's joking there either, although he raises his eyebrows slightly in case she is. She's right, of course. There's a fairly low bar set. At least he's trying, which is more than he can say for the last -- who knows how long it's been since anyone in Hillingdon has, to be honest.

He listens as she continues to confide in him, nodding along, honestly grateful that she does. He'd known that she hadn't approved of Lancelot's involvement before, even if the other man had been nothing but civil to her, had only helped them in the case. Lancelot didn't keep secrets, he was a Guardian both day and night. It's why he does have to keep his involvement with Hillingdon business to a minimum.

"Where do you think that Hillingdon should stand on the matter?" he asks her honestly. No pretense, he just wants her opinion. A sharing of the minds, if you will.

It's oddly unsettling that he listens quietly and attentively. Ringer is used to dealing with more arrogant people as of late and having someone who seems to potentially value her opinion is strange. She consciously ignores her knee-jerk reaction to distance herself from Faolan to ensure her walls remain in place. Hopefully she can manage that without the distance. The more time he spends with the Night Council, the easier it'll be.

"It's.. not my place to say," she replies finally, slow and careful in her words. "I don't know the clan well enough to know what would benefit them the most."

Faolan inclines his head in response to her words. She doesn't seem to want to commit to anything, whether that's because she doesn't want him to know her true opinion about the matter or because of some other reason it's difficult to determine for certain. But he'd asked her a question and he'll attempt to find an answer to it, one way or another.

"Well, what do you think?" he asks, trying to keep pressing but not so hard that it should scare her off. "What stance taken would have you standing beside us, then?"

Ringer's lips twitch with mild hesitation as she thinks not on what to say, but how to say it. She's confused as to whether or not she trusts Faolan. His knowing her current attitudes and perspectives, however, can't change anything. Even if he passes it along - she still doubts that he would - and does everything in his power to act against her, Ringer doesn't have any concrete plans to stop and her loyalty to the faction is loose enough that she can always walk away.

"I want to support the Fae in obtaining one territory. Aiding them might lower some of their hostility towards humans." She drops her gaze, eyebrows furrowing as she thinks. It's frustrating, not understanding some of the larger plots and different angles. The cost of being human. "I'm tired of humanity being collateral damage."

Faolan cocks his head to the side, considering it. To be true, he's been given no reason not to trust the fae thus far, while the Night Council, Circle Daybreak, and to be more accurate, Gilbert Norrell and Sylvia Redbright wield their gavels against them. They can be dangerous, though. Just as any wild creature can, and he wonders how far the fae could really be trusted in an alliance. But it's an idea. Especially when one puts it like that.

"Do you suggest an alliance?" he asks her honestly. "An alliance with the fae? Or is it so simple as that, just one instance of support. Hoping that such a thing might change their idea of us." He leans forward in his seat slightly. "Many of them are hundreds of years older than we will ever imagine to become, you know. If Hillingdon seeks to make a difference in their opinions, something tells me it's going to take more time and effort than the act of a single territory claim."

Ringer drops her gaze, allowing a silence to stretch between them as she thinks. No need to rush the subject, especially when it's a complicated matter. Especially if Faolan actually considers her personal ideas as advice for the faction as a whole.

"Not an alliance. That opens the group up to a rivalry against the Night Council. We're always in the middle. The faction need to think three moves ahead instead of responding." She looks up again. "I think it would help to give the fae a territory instead of supporting them in taking one. If you're looking for an alliance, the werewolves may be beneficial."

Faolan nods slightly. Thinking three moves ahead, it's what he's been trying to do, certainly. But it's difficult, and it's perhaps why so far they haven't done anything at all. Not that that's anything different than what they've been doing for the last -- well. Faolan can't really remember when, if ever, they did in the past.

"Acting against the Night Council is going to turn them against us regardless. We're either with them or we're not, either way we act. The question is, which way do we choose," he notes, tilting his head at her slightly. Although the thought of allying with the werewolves isn't a bad one. After all, they're going to need friends one way or the other. They're good, but they won't be able to support themselves against attack indefinitely.

"Daybreak is against the fae. The Night Council support them, but I don't think it's a direct opposition. Supporting the fae would be challenging Daybreak, not the Council. Or would it?" She frowns. Ringer the idiot, playing catch up. "We choose the side of humanity. If the Night Council continues to support the vampires' feeding, they're against humans."

It feels impossible to beat the Night Council, with Redbright also leading the Institution named for her and leading Daybreak. They were all inseparable. The only way to make progress would be to ally with their opponents, to somehow unite the werewolves and the fae with the humans. Possibly Circle Midnight as well, if it comes to it. Though Ringer doesn't trust the Unseelie any more than the Council. "You should recuse yourself from Hillingdon, if you're going to continue to work with them."

Edited 2016-03-13 21:47 (UTC)

"The Night Council is against the fae," Faolan says, firmly. "Or, more accurately, Gilbert Norrell is against the fae, and he has just secured himself a seat on the Council itself. Together with Vrinak, the pair of them both Daybreak witches, he is hoping to work to abolish the fae from this realm." His jaw tightens. "His words, not mine."

Luckily for Faolan, because of the position he holds as Head of Hillingdon, he doesn't need to admit to being a Guardian to know all of these things. He's been invited to enough gatherings as of late, including the Council River Cruise, that he has plenty of reason to have spoken with Norrell and gained an inside view on the situation.

"As far as recusing myself from Hillingdon is concerned," Faolan continues, his voice hard and firm, especially around her own choice of words, "I should think you can forgive me the one friendship I have made within the Council circle." Because he imagines that's what she's hinting at when she mentions working with them. She couldn't possibly know about him being a Guardian himself... Could she? No, he figures she'd have a much different approach to this whole conversation if so.

She nods, accepting the new information and immediately incorporating it into what she knows already. The more she learns, the more impossible it all seems. She wonders if assassinating Redbright would actually make a difference, if it's even possible. Killing Norrell would likely only martyr him and sway people to his cause; killing Millicent would effectively poke the hornet's nest. Neither of those would be beneficial, but Redbright might be. Depending on the risk.

"It's a conflict of interest." She replies easily, not so stern as he is. Her suggestion was a logical deduction of what might benefit the group as a whole from her perspective. "You see that. If you do choose to ally yourself opposite the Council, the friendship might give other members of Hillingdon pause. There's nothing to guarantee you aren't selling us out to them."

Ringer pauses, as if only just realizing the truth of the words. It's a dangerous position. As much as she wants to trust Faolan more than that - and does, for now, if pressed to choose - it continues to make her nervous that he forms the friendships that he does. His agenda is still a mystery to her.

Faolan has to narrow his eyes somewhat at that. He can't help but feel as though this is somewhat personal. "Because of one friendship, that puts me in the Council's pocket?" he asks. "A friendship that existed even before he was sworn to the Night Council, I might add."

No, he's taking this too personally and he knows it. He forces himself to sit back and think, running a hand over his face and taking in a deep breath. "I appreciate your concern for the faction. It's...admirable. But there's nothing to guarantee that I am selling you out either. Because I'm not," he adds, firmly. "If you're worried about what they might think of me, I'll make sure to keep my private life to myself. But this isn't about factions or who's paying his salary. Look," he continues awkwardly, because this sort of a conversation doesn't come naturally to him, not really, but he's trying to reach some sort of settlement here.

"There are two people in this city total who I would even think to refer to by that word. And one of them has been avoiding me for weeks. So what other choice do I have?"

Ringer's halfway to asking who the other one is before she realizes who he means. Her brows pull together in something like a confused scowl as she thinks about what he's saying and why he might be saying it. Using her as an excuse to justify his relationship with Lancelot isn't exactly winning him any points.

"You're exaggerating," she says finally, finding it easier to look at the logical rather than deal with the emotional. "My concern isn't admirable. It's necessary to my survival. As is a good leader." A beat. "And the right alliances."

She straightens in her chair, sighing a little as she thinks. "I don't know if it's better to support Circle Midnight or try to help eliminate them. Both the Night Council and the fae are a threat to us. The werewolves are the only faction who might work with us instead of using us. They'll try to use us, but we can preempt that."

Another pause before her expression tightens. "You know where to find me if you need me."

'If you need me.' It sounds like a dismissal if ever there was one. It's probably for the best. Faolan may be good at thinking logically to a point, but within his heart of hearts, he's something of a romantic. And the fact that, as something of a friend to him herself, that she doesn't approve of one of the only friends he's managed to find himself in these few long, lonely years of his life. That bothers him. Probably more than it should, but it does. Never would he have thought he would have needed to justify Lancelot to anyone, but there it is, and he's not sure how it should be done. He's not even sure that it can be, frankly. All he does know is that he doesn't want to lose either of them, and that's not a very rational thought to be sitting there making at her just then.

"And you know where my office is," he says, as he moves to stand, although he can't help but adding somewhat self-deprecatingly, perhaps because of the mood he's in, perhaps because the idea that she doesn't consider him very good when he's questioned himself countless times himself just rankling it further. "No one's thrown me out of it yet."

Ringer frowns, not understanding why he stood until her words replay in her mind. She reaches out to take hold of his wrist as she, too, stands, trying to stop him from walking away in such a state. It's a sign of her caring, if ever there was one.

"You said I've been avoiding you. But you know where I live if you needed me." A beat. "You didn't need me."

It's not that she wants or needs to be needed, but her way of explaining what she means. Faolan not specifically seeking her out made it easy for her to avoid him. Until he did, which is the reason they're talking now. Ringer drops her hand from his arm, standing awkwardly next to the table.

"I'm not good at.. this." Being friends. As if evidence of that, she suddenly interrupts her own thought as something else he said strikes her. "When was Lancelot sworn to the Night Council?"

Faolan glances down at her hand on his wrist before up at Ringer herself. "I didn't think you wanted me there," he admits, before her question catches him by surprise. Some of which shows on his face, he's sure. But he answers, of course. Because he does value this friendship, or whatever it is that they have between the pair of them.

"This August," he says, not even needing to consider the date of course, because he'd been sworn in then as well. "Well before I found myself anything important." He still doesn't know how he wound up in charge of Hillingdon. He's still not sure if he's the right man for the job, but by god he's going to do the best he can while he's there, if nothing else.

Ringer doesn't know what to say in response to his remark, so she says nothing at all of it. She didn't want him there and to deny it would be disingenuous. At the same time, she did, and that dichotomy of thought is something she hardly understands in herself and finds hard to explain. Which is why saying nothing of it is easier. They're speaking now and either they'll make amends or not.

"Isn't that more suspicious? That you found power and success after his being instated in the Night Council?" She asks as evenly. Sensing that she's continuing on the same path that might upset him again, she gestures to his chair for him and then sits down herself, continuing in more hushed tones. "I was raised to ask questions. It doesn't mean that I trust you less when I scrutinize your associations."

She pauses, trying to think. "Do you trust the Night Council?"

Faolan knows he has to be careful in how he answers this question. He isn't sure how the curse works exactly, but suppose he were to turn into a statue before her eyes for speaking exactly what was on his mind. No, he has to stay true to his job, but he'll do so while expressing himself as best he can.

"I believe that... They could be better than they are," he replies. "I don't like the way that some of the factions seem to take precedence while others are mere afterthoughts. We're all part of the supernatural community. The Night Council is our Law. Should they not represent us all to the best of their ability?"

He realizes that it's not as straightforward an answer as she might have hoped but, given his situation it's going to have to do. He hopes she'll catch the meaning of his opinions between the lines of his twisting logic and words.

Ringer is nothing if not a master of understanding subtext and nuance in regards to politics. Even if she fails at the nuances of social situations in general. But it doesn't really make her feel better, to see him hedging his attitudes and potentially allying himself — and, by default, their faction — with a Council he doesn't seem to like much and which she despises.

"Why is Lancelot a part of them?" Maybe if she can understand why Lancelot is involved with the Night Council, she'll be able to understand why it doesn't bother Faolan to associate so closely with the corrupt group. Or, perhaps, Faolan chooses to ignore that fault in Lancelot. In which case the question becomes: "And why do you trust him?"

It's an honest question, factual, not an accusation or judgment. The judgment is there, of course, and he knows it. But only in so far as it relates to the Council, not to the man directly.

Faolan can't help but feel as though he's being interrogated, but he supposes that if it will help... He can't complain so long as he gets such an outcome as that.

"Lancelot is a member of the Guardians because he believes in helping people. Making a difference. He's a Police Community Support Officer -- you've met the man. You know how damned earnest he is." He shrugs slightly, looking down at his feet for a moment. "I don't think he really knew what he was getting himself into at the time." But that's not what she's asking him. What else.

He looks back up at her. Why does he trust him? "Why does anyone trust someone?" he asks her. "Why do you trust me? Assuming you do, of course." It's possible she doesn't. Much as though it pains him to force himself to think about.

To hide away, hide away

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