early february catch-all

[reticence]

I. WESTMINSTER - Closed to Night Council
Faolan knows that the headaches Lancelot had had the month before were not due to any earthly illness, but rather the further development of his abilities. Still, as he pops his second course of painkillers that day, he can't help but but feel like he'd caught it. Well, not exactly. It isn't that his head hurts, exactly. But he feels hot. Dizzy. It comes in spells, which illnesses generally do, and for the most part Faolan is sticking to his desk.

Which, luckily enough for him, is easy to do if you volunteer for the desk work on this purge business. The majority of the knocking down doors and raiding homes has calmed and settled into the occasional report here and there, which suits Faolan just fine. Although he hadn't had much of a choice in the matter, he hadn't liked it one bit. It also meant that there was a lot of background paperwork to catch up on, both keeping track of the seized items and their inventorying, as well as everything that had fallen to the wayside when their priorities had been elsewhere.

Still, Faolan can't seem to keep his eyes focused. He sits forward and puts his head in his hands for a moment, leaning his elbows on the edge of the desk. If he went home early, would anyone notice? Does he need special permission for that sort of thing, he wonders to himself. Having hardly ever taken a sickday in his life, especially not since he'd become a Guardian, he hasn't the slightest idea.


II. HILLINGDON - Closed to Hillingdon
Hillingdon House can be awkward at times, for the fact that it had at one point been a real house. As such, it's fitted much the same as an older mansion would be, even if not quite in the same way. Kitchen, library, sitting room, dining room, living room, the last three of which double as larger meeting rooms, with the upper floor containing offices, smaller meeting rooms, and yes, one or two rooms that have kept their function as a bedroom. It's odd, unique, and sometimes it works well for what you want to do there, sometimes less so.

Right now, seated on one of the rigid-backed sofas in the sitting room, in front of an actual fire in the actual fireplace, Faolan has very little regret about the fact that it had been a house at one point at all. He's even gone so far as to search out a slightly pilled old throw from one of the bedrooms upstairs, which he's huddled himself under in an attempt to regulate something of his temperature. He's feeling better now that he's sitting here in front of the fire with a coffee perched on his knee, having created himself a home away from home of sorts, but he's got a feeling that it's not going to last. That's the trouble with being ill, after all. As long as you're not doing anything, you're fine. He might actually be able to concentrate on some of the reports he has upstairs at this rate, but the trouble is that that's where he's left them...


III. ANYWHERE - OPEN
Despite feeling lightheaded and feverish, that hasn't kept Faolan from making appearances at his regular cafe, as he is known to do in the course of any regular week. To the average onlooker, there might not even seem to be anything wrong, as he makes his order and parks himself in the back corner of the cafe itself with a regular coffee and a bowl of soup. To those who do see Faolan on a regular basis, however, he might seem sluggish. He certainly feels that way, as if he's navigating the world through varying levels of fog that he can't seem to shake no matter what different medicines he tries. And for another thing, he's ordered soup, rather than his regular heaping of god knows what that he would happily help himself to.

He keeps his jacket on, but his body can't quite seem to decide whether it's too hot or too cold or what at odd intervals, and it's oddly disconcerting. He knows that if he really is this ill, he probably shouldn't be walking around, frequenting cafes as he is. But if it were contagious, he would have shaken it by now, shouldn't he have? As the first few weeks of February drag on, and Faolan's symptoms remain the same, he starts to wonder. And he starts to get really tired of soup.


IV. LANCELOT'S FLAT - Closed to Lancelot
Faolan knows that he probably shouldn't be hiding how awful he feels from the other man, considering how he'd reprimanded Lancelot himself for much of the same thing. But this is different, isn't it? Well. Sort of. He's been trying to take care of himself, really he is. Perhaps better than he would normally, even. But he can't quite seem to shake whatever this is. And at least he hasn't holed himself up in his own flat, waiting for it all to pass, yeah? Even if that means that he's been sticking to Lancelot's a bit more than he might otherwise have done. Hoping that the steady meals and more regular hours might have something of an affect.

Not that it does, really. Despite it all, he still feels the same. Worse, these days, maybe. He can't really tell, it comes in waves, and seems to be worse when he actually lets himself stop and take a breather, ironically enough. The few chances Lancelot allowed him to sleep in. The quiet moments, just sitting with the other man together at the table. He's honestly amazed that Lancelot hasn't noticed or if he has, hasn't said anything yet, at the fact that he's begun to cling to him and this place like his home away from home, aside from Hillingdon house that is. And moreover, he's starting to wonder if it might be connected to...

No, that's crazy. And impossible. Still, as he makes his way back from Hillingdon House that evening and rings the bell (because despite the fact that he's been staying there, he's still not about to just let himself in), he can't help noticing that, as he hears Lancelot's feet padding toward the door, his blood almost seems to heat in reaction to it. ...god, he must be losing his mind, with thoughts like that, he thinks to himself, as he runs a hand over his face and through his hair and tries to cool down.

(ooc note: as stated, this is really only for early february, everything up until feb 14? that should still be long enough to catch working with the new guardians and everyone else besides, though! c: )

Comments

IV

[knightscode]

Lancelot is rather accustomed to Faolan turning up and staying the night now, it's becoming a regular sort of thing. What Lancelot can't entirely parse is why.

It isn't that he minds -- quite the opposite, he rather enjoys the company -- but Faolan's reasons (excuses, even) are growing weaker by the day. That, and Faolan himself is growing quieter.

Surely... if he was in trouble Faolan would tell him? If he was in danger? Losing his own flat? Hiding from someone?

Yet whatever it is, he doesn't seem inclined to open up to it just yet. Which leaves Lancelot frowning at Faolan's bag, still beside the futon, as he turns down the heat on the stir fry he's cooking. It's enough for two, since Faolan clearly plans on coming back for it again, and it's Lunar New Year anyway. Lancelot has hung a tiny red paper lantern for the occasion with a decorative tassel, which Lily is incredibly curious about. She gives a single bark of alert at the doorbell, runs to it as Lancelot pads along more sedately and opens it for Faolan -- steps aside to wave him in.

"Forgot your bag?" he offers pre-emptively, and flicks a faint smile. "I'm making a stir fry, it's nearly ready."

[reticence]

Faolan nods slightly, unsure whether the other man is calling him out on his thinly veiled excuses or not. He's offering him food though, so even if he is, it must be all within good humor. He steps into the doorway, reaching out to brace himself on the wall once he's inside to toe off his shoes.

"Thanks," he says. "I. Yeah. I forgot my bag. Sorry, you didn't have to..." He trails off. Who is he kidding, of course Lancelot made food for him. And he'd been counting on it. And Lancelot had anticipated it, and he knows that it's getting a little ridiculous, how much he's hanging about the other man's place, but he really doesn't want to go back to his own flat like this. He really doesn't know what's going on with him, and it's frankly more than a little disconcerting.

But he's not fooling anyone, and now that that's obvious. He keeps his hand braced on the wall as he gestures further into Lancelot's flat. "I'll just..." He'd really rather go and sit down now, if it's all the same to Lancelot himself. But he's already invited himself this far, so he does at least wait for the other man's invitation before he moves further.

[knightscode]

"It's fine, come on in. I'll get you a drink. Water, coke, juice or something stronger?"

Lancelot pads back through into the kitchen again, begins to stir and toss the contents of his wok before checking a timer.

"And do you want yours with or without chilli oil?"

[reticence]

Faolan shuffles through behind the other man, taking his time as he makes his way into the living room. Rather than settling on the futon like he might want to, though, he makes himself head towards the breakfast nook to sink into a chair at the table there. Because he might not get up to relocate if he doesn't, being honest with himself.

"Water is fine," he says. Feeling as warm as he does, he really should be drinking more water, he supposes. He shrugs his jacket off, hanging it up on the back of his chair. What else had he been asked? Chili oil. "And. Without, if you don't mind..."

[knightscode]

"Of course not, that's why I asked. It should really have japones in it and hot sauce, but I didn't want to overwhelm you if you weren't in the mood for something spicy."

The kitchen smells strongly of something sweet and citrusy, of orange and garlic, onion and soy sauce. Lily paces about excitedly, settles on invading Faolan's personal space as soon as he sits down and swishing her tail at him.

"Orange chicken," he adds by way of explanation, "it's Chinese New Year."

I - Mid-February

[protagonized]

Simon's still trying to make sense of what has happened over the past few days. Sure, he'd mentioned to Norrell that he was considering becoming a Guardian, but he hadn't expected to be nominated for it. He doesn't even know who did the nominating; he certainly doesn't think it was Norrell.

Weirder still, they actually accepted him.

It's only been a couple of days since the induction, and Simon's still getting the lay of the land. He's aimlessly carrying a mug of coffee from area to area, trying to familiarize himself with his new office and official capacity.

He pauses in front of Faolan's desk.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asks, a little awkwardly. "You look like shi--you don't look well."

[reticence]

Faolan starts slightly, glancing up at the voice addressing him. He vaguely recognizes it as one of the new Guardian recruits that had come in this go around. Simon, he thinks his name is? O'Neill, if he's not mistaken. It had stood out to him, being an O'Neill himself, after all.

He sits up, looking slightly sheepish both for jumping and for showing the moment of weakness in the first place. But he really doesn't feel well at all, though. Hot and cold all over, and now his tongue is a bit fuzzy in his mouth. He could really use a glass of water or something, he thinks to himself, even as he opens his mouth to say, "I'm. I'm fine."

It's pretty obvious that he's not fooling anyone, here.

[protagonized]

"Doesn't look like it," Simon replies, raising an eyebrow. Faolan--O'Neill; maybe a long-lost cousin-by-adoption?--looks like he's about to pass out.

"Can I, uh, get you anything? Aspirin? Water? Tea?"

He hovers in the background like a concerned puppy, wondering if he should even be here or if he should just go.

[reticence]

Faolan glances up at the younger Guardian, thinking of just waving him off and shrugging his help away, but not wanting to give off that sort of impression this early in the game. Especially not if Simon has already caught wind of the fact that he's not only a Guardian, but the current Hillingdon Clan Leader besides.

"I, uh..." He says, awkwardly, glancing down to his desk before back up at Simon. "Water, maybe? I've already taken something earlier, but." He shrugs, slightly. Noncommittally. Obviously, it doesn't seem to have managed to do much.

[protagonized]

Simon disappears for a moment and returns with a mug from his own desk full of water. It's just tap water from the men's room, but it's probably better than nothing.

"Try this."

II

[specifiercity]

Arthur pauses at the sound of a crackling fire on his way to the library one evening during one of his visits to the house. In theory he knows that there is a fireplace in there, but he's never actually seen it used - he just assumed it wasn't safe ever since he first saw it. When he pokes his head in and sees Faolan's head over the back of the sofa, he hesitates but decides to speak to him.

"Enjoying the ambiance?" he asks as he approaches the sofa, lightly amused.

[reticence]

Faolan's too hazy to be startled by the other man's appearance, though he hadn't been expecting to be joined by anyone. The last time he had set himself up in this room and attempted to lure company it had hardly worked, after all. But he isn't unhappy to see the other man. He welcomes the company and conversation. He's hardly been doing anything besides sitting and staring into the fire at the moment after all.

"It is rather homey," he admits, trying to pretend that he hasn't just been caught out, snuggled up on the sofa in front on the fire as he is.

[specifiercity]

"I didn't even know this thing was usable," he says, gesturing to the fireplace as he finds an armchair and sits down. There's a difference in Faolan today, like he's not as sharp as usual, but Arthur knows they all get exhausted from time to time. Faolan just has the obligation of being around.

"Guess I just never bothered to find out."

[reticence]

Faolan shrugs slightly. "Truth be told," he says, glancing back to the fireplace, "I wasn't sure myself before today. But there were ashes in the grate, and it seemed like a good idea at the time..." He turns back to the other man, well aware of how he looks, curled up on a sofa, under a blanket, in front of a fire, but truth be told he can't really be bothered right now.

"I made it a point not to leave it unattended and to watch and see if there's too much smoke in the room, if that's any consolation," he notes, with a crooked smile.

[specifiercity]

"I guess that's all you really need to do," Arthur says, staring into the fire thoughtfully. He looks at Faolan - wondering about him. Usually he's a little more straightlaced than this, never looking quite comfortable, and right now he looks like he could fall asleep.

Arthur hesitates, but proceeds to ask, "not feeling well?"

II

[constantprisoner]

Sirius had just been planning to pass through the house, maybe see what jobs were available, before he headed home. But the smell of smoke had caught his interest and he had to investigate. He couldn't remember a fire ever being lit in the fireplace before.

"Well, this looks comfortable," he said, coming into the room. "I don't think anyone's lit a fire in there for years."

[reticence]

Faolan glances up from where he's started to further burrito himself into the blanket he'd brought down from upstairs and has the decency to look a bit sheepish at being caught out by the other man as he has.

"Well," he says, nodding towards the fire. "It hadn't been covered up, and there were ashes in the grate. I figured as long as I kept an eye on it, should be safe enough?" He glances back at Sirius with a further sheepish smile. He may or may not have dozed off a few times during this vigil, after all.

[constantprisoner]

"Well, nothing seems to have burned down, so I think you're safe for the moment."

It doesn't stop Sirius from being wary but he figures he can trust Faolan not to let things get caught on fire.

"What's the occasion?"

[reticence]

He'll be careful. And if he starts to feel like he isn't able to keep watch over it, then he'll stop stoking it up and just let it go out instead. He would reassure about this but he decides not to further suggest he might fall asleep on the job and just settles for further bundling himself up.

"Ah," he says, a bit awkwardly. "Well, I haven't. Been feeling all that well, so I suppose it just seemed like a good idea at the time." He shrugs slightly, gesturing to the fire. "Creature comforts I suppose."

[constantprisoner]

"Fair enough. Got a cold or something?"

Curling up by the fire was something that seemed almost foreign to Sirius, who was trying to remember the last time he'd done it, if ever.

TEA TIME - closed to lancelot

[reticence]

This whole hot and cold thing is starting to get really old, as far as Faolan is concerned, but at least it's not getting worse, even if it's not really getting all that much better. Well, that's not entirely true. He's gotten better since that night at Lancelot's flat. He supposes that it's just all uphill from there, even if the going has been slower than he'd like. He also supposes that it has something to do with the fact that he's growing used to the sensations, and he's starting to make a connection to them. that it's less of an illness and more of a... Sensation sort of a deal.

Still, it doesn't stop him from feeling pretty run down, from time to time. Even so, he makes it a point to be in at work every day he's scheduled with the Guardians. Especially on the days when Lancelot's texted him and asked him if he's scheduled as well. Something to talk about and not over text. Which either means that there's something wrong, something that Lancelot doesn't want to tell him but in person. Or that there's a case. (Maybe both, Faolan's hardly going to make any assumptions here.)

Thus does Faolan find himself in the office early, even if he'd rather still be in bed right about now. Oh, the things he does in the name of friendship...

[knightscode]

"Faolan!"

Lancelot brightens at the sight of him, despite how tired the other man looks. Faolan is not exactly a morning person, he knows, and that is why Lancelot has an extra pastry and cup of coffee on his desk at the ready. Lily is laid out beside his desk, quietly keeping him company for the morning, and she lifts her head and swishes her tail at the sight of her friend.

"Glad you could make it," he says, "I know it's a little earlier than you're used to."

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows at Lily settled on the floor beside the desk but he doesn't question it. Not when there's coffee and a pastry waiting for him. Never let it be said that Lancelot doesn't treat him well. Without thinking about the gesture, Faolan drops a hand down to greet Lily, stroking her head and letting her lick his hand for a moment before settling down in his seat.

"Thanks," he says, as he picks up the coffee and then practically drowns himself in it. "You said that you wanted to talk about something?" He glances across at Lancelot over the rim of his coffee cup, waiting for his next dose of caffeine to start to kick in.

[knightscode]

"Yes, actually! How do you feel about valentines day?"

There's something amused in Lancelot's expression as he asks, and he quirks an eyebrow and drops a file in front of Faolan.

"Apparently someone has decided it wasn't romantic enough, and is adding to the excitement. Funny as it is on paper it's not ideal, at the heart of it all it's essentially drugging people without their knowledge. Some of it is pretty strong stuff, too."

[reticence]

Faolan's eyebrows shoot nearly up into his hairline at the question, and he's grateful for the file that's dropped on the desk in front of him to bury himself in so that he can hide whatever expression might have come next. A joke. About a case. Of course it was.

Flipping through the file, his expression sobers slightly. Drugging people, Lancelot says, which is certainly one way of putting it. "Love potions added to tea?" he asks, glancing up at the other man for confirmation that he's reading all of this correctly.