undergrounds | (open) hell is deep lord, but we're heading deeper

[With new lords come new excuses to party.]

[Some time on the 19th, the fae stage a takeover of the club fabric in Smithfield. Invitations are sent out to all the fae in London, touting the glorious coming out of the Lords of Rivers and Illusions, Seelie and Unseelie respectively. It's one of those times where fae of both courts just want an excuse to throw a party, and the invitation is all the notice said new lords get that they are going to be guests of honour.]

[It's a typical fae affair; the magic is heavy in all three rooms, one of which is decorated like a ballroom in Other Realm fashion. The food and drink served at the bar remains untouched by fae charms, but the fae presence itself seems to be intoxicating. Some of the activities happening in dark corners seem to be a little beyond what's regularly allowed at any reputable nightclub, but don't pay attention to that just enjoy the party.]

[If you manage to cause any trouble, a team of large fae is here to escort you out. You may have seen them faithfully guarding the door, sniffing out those who may want to cause harm to the high concentration of fae inside. Vampires can be let through if they have a fae companion with them, and otherwise all types of humans and supernatural alike are allowed in.]

[The party goes on for precisely 72 hours, and on the 22nd the party winds down and mysteriously disappears. The club is left a little cleaner than when it started, the staff left completely befuddled about what just occurred.] (x)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well Ringer's successfully managed something very few people have ever done. He's so thrown by the question he chokes on his drink, sputtering for a moment because wow whiskey isn't meant to be drunk that way.

"No I'm not planning to commit genocide." Eames wipes at his chin with the back of his hand, "that is... Quite the leap."

She feels some sense of accomplishment at his reaction, not in the choking, but in his genuine surprise. It's the first time she's seen him less than smooth. She reaches out to gently pat his back as he coughs, equal parts concerned and teasing. When he recovers, she withdraws her hand.

"Collateral damage can be easy to ignore when you're angry," she replies as justification for the leap in logic. "I prefer the fae to the Night Council, but I want to protect humans from both. How can I help keep them out of your war?"

"Oh it's a war now, is it?" Eames raises an eyebrow, seemingly having moved on from that brief drop in his composure. He sighs instead, already bored of the topic of this conversation. He's done what he can to keep the losses of bystanders to a minimum, and he also knows the same is true of Finnick. It does nothing for them if humans start dying in droves wherever they go.

"Have you considered writing a letter to your local MP? Maybe try a petition."

"A conflict then," she amends. Ringer can practically see his eyes glaze over and the response that follows is an indication of such. He's back to sarcasm and mocking instead of honest answers. She takes a sip of her water, trying to think if there's anything else she wants to ask him for now or if she should simply leave him to enjoy Finnick's party.

"What do you want, Eames? The usual power and status? Or something more interesting?"

"I've never been interested in status," Eames says with a dismissive scoff. If anything he wants the opposite. This Lordship is, however, something of a necessary evil when it comes to his life in the long term.

"My answer might bore you," Eames continues, "but we'd just like a little respect instead of being boxed away like Guy fucking Fawkes."

That's a definitely interesting and half unexpected answer. Ringer's expression briefly shows her surprise before she takes another sip of her drink. A little respect. It's not unreasonable, if he's telling the truth. Of course, it's just as likely that he's trying to sound mundane to sway the naive human. But even if that's the case Ringer sees no reason not to try to help them as planned. At least for now.

"I'm already making efforts to help, not that the fae seem interested in alliances." She replies lightly, undaunted by Finnick's complete disinterest in human aid. "Hopefully you get your respect, Eames."

Eames nods, makes a soft noise in acknowledgement of her well wishes. He'll not comment on the issue of alliances - mortals are taught not to trust fae, but that's a two-way street. For his part, there are few mortals Eames has ever trusted on their word alone.

It's a complex issue, and Eames has neither the desire nor the time to really get into it right now. Especially not with someone he barely knows. He takes a sip of his drink, a thoughtful look on his face before he speaks, "and what is it you want, Ringer? Or am I to believe you really are all about protecting humans and whatnot?"

Ringer grabs her water, taking a sip. She half expects to be dismissed then and there, that Eames is over their conversation and she can be on her way, which is why it surprises her when he asks her more about herself. The girl sets her water aside again to answer him, taking a moment to think about the answer. She doesn't want to give something shallow and generic in response.

"Protecting humans is important to me," she replies after a moment, though it's clear it's not the whole answer. Ringer thinks a few more seconds before continuing. "I want to win."

Well there's an unexpected response. Eames raises his eyebrows, a little surprised by the answer, but also impressed with her honesty.

"Win against who?"

Her dead father.

"Life," she answers naturally, as if it's the only genuine response. It's close enough to the one she doesn't give to satisfy the criteria. Ringer sighs, dropping her gaze to her glass on the bar. "I don't want to be a pawn in the other factions' games. I don't want humanity to be collateral damage either."

It's almost strange opening up to Eames of all people. Ringer doesn't lie often, but she doesn't really tell the truth much other. Usually no one bothers to ask.

What noble intentions. Eames is quiet for a moment, trying to decide if he should believe her or not, but there's no indication she's lying. Humans are often enamoured with a good cause anyway, doing the 'right thing' and all that. Especially when something's hurt them.

He wonders what hurt Ringer, but he also expects that's not a question she'll readily answer.

"There's always collateral damage," he answers evenly, matter-of-fact and devoid of the condescension one might expect from Eames on this sort of topic. She's been honest with him, and he can repay that by not being a dick. "You can minimise it, sure. But you're seeking the impossible."

Her attitudes and goals are all selfish and the results of compensating for her sad and tragic childhood and adolescence. Ringer knows as much, knows that her need to protect humanity has less to do with a selfless desire to save them and more her own selfish need to conquer the abusers and kings of the world. But Eames doesn't need to know all that.

"I didn't say I want to prevent collateral damage. I want it to be someone else." She lifts an eyebrow as she looks up at him again, admitting the cruelty of her honesty. It's the innocent and ignorant humans she seeks to protect, not everyone. Let the witches or vampires be the scores of dead for once.

"Oh," Eames' lips quirk into an impressed smile as he leans back a little on the barstool. It's not a kind expression, but Eames isn't a kind man. It's more amused by the less than selfless nature of her intent that she's so openly shared. So is it the humans she wants to protect, or someone else she wants to hurt? After a moment's consideration, Eames decides it doesn't matter. Not right now, at least.

He finishes the last of his drink, setting the empty glass on the bar and gesturing to get the bar tender's attention for another before he speaks, "put someone else in the line of fire for a change, hm? I think you may still have set something of an insurmountable task for yourself."

Something about his pleased expression makes Ringer feel sick. She suddenly remembers that it's a fae she's talking to, and an Unseelie one at that. It won't do to forget her place or his intentions and even honesty has its limits with such a man- creature. She takes another sip of her water, leaning against the bar, not looking back to the man until he speaks again.

"I think not," she replies lightly. If Ringer was working alone, then yes, absolutely. But that's the point of working with Faolan and Hillingdon, of making alliances and common enemies. It's not a perfect system, but backing the right horse has the chance to help steer the losses into better sectors. "But I can't know until it works."

(open) hell is deep lord, but we're heading deeper

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