MEMORIES [ ACTIVE / OPEN ]

[knightscode]

i ) IGNORE THE SLANDER

It's been a complicated month for Lance. A complicated new year, really. Recovering from being in jail and having a doppelgänger is easier said than done. There had been apologies to write, and even then he had to work out who needed apologising to.

That, and his headaches had flourished into this odd ability to sense things. It would be far more useful, he thinks, if he knew what on earth it was that he could sense. Most of the time it just clued him in that something (or someone) was supernatural. Most of the time it just made his head hurt.

Still, he needed to learn to make use of it. The same as the magic the Night Council gave him, really, it was all things he was unpractised at. All new and peculiar. So it is that he decides to combine the two goals: he begins February by making his rounds. Redbright, the covens, people he knows. Generally apologising and then, on the off chance they know something, asking what they know about sensing magic. Can they sense it? What does it feel like to them? How do they tell it all apart?

When all else fails he sits and flicks through books in the library at Redbright, eyes glazing a little as he tries to take it all in.

ii ) DO YOU DRINK TEA

It's one of the more odd Night Council investigations that he's been a part of, but the more he thinks about it the more he wonders why he's surprised. It may sound like the plot of a children's tale, love potions, but children's stories about magic have to come from somewhere.

He's set up an investigation room in Westminster, trying to track where all the reports are coming from. See if there's some pattern to it all, something that might help them see an obvious target. At the moment, though, it appears relatively random. The act has a peculiarly prankish feel to it, however, so perhaps he is looking for something that doesn't exist. Perhaps there is no pattern, and it's simply a random act of childish 'fun'. Lancelot sighs, spends a few more hours leafing through reports before deciding to hit the streets to find help.

Someone must know something, have seen something, or have drunk some of the tea and kept some.

Although, of course, raising such a line of conversation is a little awkward.

iii ) I'VE GOT A BAD IDEA

Lancelot has been dwelling on this for a while, the problem of his missing memories. They've been unlocked in drips, usually by some less than comfortable encounter that chipped away at the block, but up until now he'd been content to leave it at that. After all, he could not be sure what these memories might reveal. What might be hidden from him. It may be nothing serious, may be nothing bad -- but equally it could be something he would rather had stayed forgotten.

Now, though, now things are different. With his magic slowly seeming to come to life he has the distant hope that... his memories might help him make sense of everything. That if he were to unlock them he might understand the world around them, and himself, a lot better.

So Lancelot goes looking -- for witches, vampires, fae. For situations that might trigger a memory, perhaps, or people who might know how to bring down the walls preventing him from remembering. He walks into trouble on the off chance something might happen. Nine times out of ten, nothing much does. Other than a fight breaking out and him ending up gaining a few bruises.

It's a bad idea. He knows it's a bad idea. Yet what's the worst that could happen?

He can think of plenty.

Comments

BAD IDEAS

[baisant]

Being a vampire, Jean-Claude is well-versed in the shadier areas of the city. Those in which a vampire might go to get a bite to eat, where a person might turn the other cheek if two people were to disappear into an alleyway together. It's the same area of town in which he had initially found Kenzi, bleeding out on the pavement before him as she had been. The same area of town that Nancy lives in as well.

He wonders if the two incidents were connected, what happened to Kenzi and what happened to Nancy. If he could only speak to Nancy herself about it then perhaps she might shed some light. But of course she seems to blame him for Kenzi's death, and for all vampire crimes besides it seems. So Jean-Claude must do a little digging himself.

Of course... Being a vampire himself, a creature of the night, and also a person who has spent most of his life not far off from the same life as the prostitutes out on the street that night, he is perhaps slightly more prepared for their surroundings than a certain trouble-seeking PCSO might be.

[knightscode]

Lancelot should have known that following his senses might not always end how he expected.

For one thing, he's still learning how to do that. For another, just because he can sense something doesn't mean it will be the only thing he finds.

He'd sensed fae magic, and fae were what Lancelot wanted to find. Fae could help him work out his missing memories. Yet what he'd found was a vampire draining a fae, and the look it had given him once it spotted him made his skin prickle. Fae blood was attractive to vampires, Lancelot knew that, addictive. The vampire can probably smell fae magic on him.

His logic tells him don't run. If you run from a predator then its instinct is to chase. Instead, he slowly raises his hands.

"Easy," he says softly, "you don't want to turn this into a fight..."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude can smell fae too, it's part of the reason he has directed himself down this way. The fact that he can smell fae and blood on the air both tells him what he's likely to find once he follows the trail.

What he does not expect to find in turn is of course none other than Officer Lancelot DuLac, Night Council Guardian, trying to talk down the figure across from him. The figure who happens to be crouched over a body. (He knows it's a body, there is only one heartbeat in this alleyway, and it certainly isn't either his nor the fellow vampire's in turn.)

He sees the expression in the vampire's blood-crazed eyes and the way that Lancelot has his hands held up in both a defensive and placatory gesture. "He won't listen to logic, you know," Jean-Claude calls out, as he approaches slowly from behind Lancelot, staying just out of the way in case for some reason the other man decides that he's the more prescient danger here.

[knightscode]

Lancelot starts at the sound of a voice, shoots a glance at Jean-Claude then back at the vampire. He doesn't want to take his eyes of it if he can help it, not for long.

"Have a better idea?" he hisses, trying to keep his heart-rate slow. Trying to silently gauge the best ways in and out of this alleyway as the vampire by the dead fae silently pushes to its feet and watches them both.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude shakes his head, although he knows that the other man can't see it so after a moment he speaks up to say, "You need to get out of here. Just because he's just fed, it doesn't mean that he'll stop there. Not with as much fae blood as he's just ingested."

He makes his way up to stand beside the other man, so that Lancelot can keep his eyes on the other vampire and that Jean-Claude can keep an eye on it himself as he continues to address the man. "Not with a fresh hit like yourself so temptingly close," he continues, flashing his dark blue eyes to Lancelot and then back to the vampire in front of him, who bares his fangs and hisses at Jean-Claude, but doesn't make a move towards him. Not yet, at least.

tea time!

[growsowngoats]

Since Lancelot happens to have become one of Siobhan's most favourite people in all the world, she was only too happy to say yes when he asked her to come along and lend her witchy expertise to the investigation of the mysterious teas.

She is rather good at making potions herself, really, so it makes sense that he would come to her, even if there is perhaps more than a touch of wanting to keep her fed and clothed and homed playing a part in him extending the offer.

She would do it for free of course, but Lancelot wouldn't hear of it. So, in a way, she is doing actual policework at the moment. She is almost being a detective, which really is terribly exciting. Forgive her for being a little bouncy as she comes into the investigation room.

Then again, when isn't she a little bouncy?

"Hello Lance!"

Is this not the time for hugs and cheek kisses? Too bad, Lance is getting that anyway.

[knightscode]

It's always the time for hugs and cheek kisses, in truth. Lancelot grins as she bounces forward and catches her, squeezes her into his arms and returns the cheek kiss.

"Special consultant Aitken," he teases, and finally releases her enough to beam at her properly. "I'm glad you could come! How are you?"

She looks well, but in all honesty SIobhan always looks well -- she's naturally a happy person, not unlike Lance himself.

[growsowngoats]

Because he is the sweetest man ever, which is partly why she loves being around him so much. His entire aura is basically like a big, warm hug. It is very soothing for someone like her to be around such goodness.

"Aye, it was a little tricky to fit you into my busy schedule, but anything for you."

It's a self-deprecating tease, but with a core of truth. She would do just about anything for Lance, even if this particular thing really isn't much of an inconvenience, she is rarely busy.

"I'm alright, settling into my new coven."

She wrinkles her nose a little. Not because she minds anyone in the coven, she just isn't too fond of the whole system. Mostly because it reminds her too much of her mother. Had it not been for that, being a part of something like that would have been very natural for someone who loves people as much as Siobhan does.

[knightscode]

He wrinkles his nose back at her as she does, squeezes her arm gently in reassurance.

"I'm sure you're doing brilliantly," he assures her, simply because he cannot imagine her not doing brilliantly. He can't imagine anyone not getting along with Siobhan, so friendly and outgoing as she is.

"For one thing, you're still one of the best witches I know for potions and charms! Come, I can show you the samples we have. Faolan is on his way. He's..." Lancelot tilts his head slowly, hesitates. "... He may have drunk a little himself, just to warn you.

SLANDER!!

[tearmeanewone]

While it's true Elizabeth has been spending less time around Circle Daybreak, she can't just drop off the face of the country altogether. She has to go listen to lectures and practice and take in all the sympathetic looks-- 'How Sad, She Must Be Devastated'.

Nope.

She's enduring this while leaving one of the Circle's meeting places, a borrowed book in one arm. She sees Lancelot come in, and she frowns. Deeply. Looks like his nose isn't crooked, she must not have hit him hard enough. Maybe he'll try to give her an excuse on her coven's doorstep. Not like anybody would come to her aid anyway, but it would still be a little satisfying.

W O W

[knightscode]

The look on Elizabeth's face completely contrasts Lancelot's, which begin as bright pleasure at the sight of her.

His expression falls quickly, settles into cautious concern. It's not every day someone looks at you as if they're hoping to will you to set alight, but that is what Elizabeth is doing at right that moment.

"Elizabeth?" he prompts gently, slowing down and trying to take in why she might be so upset. Does she know something he doesn't? Is it someone else that has put her in a foul mood? (Norrell?)

[tearmeanewone]

That's a good guess, Lance, but right now it's that stupid innocent look on your face that's got her hackles raised. 'Elizabeth?' Elizabeth.

"You want to go best two out of three? Or maybe you'd rather not bother seeing as I'm wearing pants today!"

[knightscode]

... What? Lancelot's eyebrow's shoot up in surprise at that, and he blinks at her a moment before rallying. Something has happened, obviously, and he has a good idea what it might be.

He holds up his hands in a pacifying gesture, wary of inciting her anger.

"Tell me what happened," he says softly. "Please. Someone has been impersonating me. A fae. They can glamour themselves to look like other people -- forgive me, I know it sounds insane but it's the truth. I wish it were not."

bad ideas!

[falsify]

As it happens, it's an altercation between a witch and a fae that Lancelot seems to have run into. Tensions have been high for the past few months and scuffles are to kind of to be expected really. Neither of the involved parties seem to be that strong, and it's really kind of a sad display on both sides.

Eames probably arrives at roughly the same time as Lancelot to break it up, the commanding tone he takes with the fae and the way they stop when told speaking a lot for this later 'promotion' of his.

He's a little too focused on making sure random witches don't end up dead and ruin everything he's been working on to pay much attention to the feel of Seelie magic however.

[knightscode]

Lancelot is crouched beside the girl, talking quietly but firmly to her --you'll be fine, please, just head back. Here, take this. I understand, but this could have been a lot worse-- until eventually she seems to relent and push to her feet. She shoots Eames and the other fae a last glance before scurrying off into the shadows, and its a that point that Lancelot gets a good look on him.

The memory is hazy, but it's there. Walking past the stalls at the festival, looking for something for Lily. He thinks this was the man. He hadn't --

The feel of Eames' magic hits him, prickling his skin like a rush of cold air and sending a shiver through him. Before, at the festival, he hadn't the faintest idea what Eames was. Now, as he collects himself, he thinks he recognises something in the strains of the magic that makes Eames being here at all make a lot more sense. Makes the way the fae had reacted to him make a lot more sense.

"Hello again," he begins softly, and pushes his hands into his pockets -- tries to keep his body language relaxed even though his heart is still racing a little from trying to break up the fight. "Thank you. For helping."

[falsify]

He's having a similar conversation with the fae-- well. Similar is a strong word. Mostly he's telling them to learn some self-control before they fuck up everything for everyone, but they seem to heed his words all the same, throwing their hands up in frustration before they leave.

It's then that he turns to face the other man, smiling in recognition. "Lancelot, was it?" He asks as though he can't remember for certain. The magic on him is stronger than he remembers; perhaps he's learned something of what he is? Learned to use it, maybe? Eames gives him a considering look, thinking about all this before he asks, "no dog today?"

That's the important question.

[knightscode]

He lets out a huff of amusement at that, drops his eyes and slides his hands into his pockets as he shrugs.

"It's not exactly the best place to walk a dog," he says, and looks up again hesitantly. "Probably not the best place for me to walk either, but -- here I am."

And here Eames is, for whatever reason. It's a peculiar sort of coincidence, but then again London does always end up feeling smaller than you'd expect. However many people there are in it you always seem to end up running into someone you know.

BAD IDEAS

[thelittlemerman]

It doesn't take long for Finnick to recognize a particular type of magic, and Lancelot's surely is unique. A human coated in Seelie magic, maybe a touch of witchcraft mixed in. Finnick doesn't know where Lancelot's loyalties truly lie, but it's not with the fae anymore, if it ever was to begin with.

In any case, his ears metaphorically perk up when Lancelot wanders into the bar where a few fae are congregated, fae who called him over to resolve some minor debate and now have dismissed him to go back to his mundane duties as a lord. He doesn't really mind these kinds of things - they're annoying, but they remind him he's a member of the court without question again - however, it all becomes far more interesting when Lancelot walks in.

"Still looking for memories?" Finnick says softly when he gets closer. "I wouldn't bother with them." He tilts his head toward the group of fae in the corner booth. "The only thing they can conjure is the desire to punch something."

[knightscode]

Lancelot tilts his head at that, turns to inspect the fae in question.

"As long as they punch each other and not me I suppose that's fine."

He flashes a smile, moves closer to the bar and pulls himself up a stool as he digs through his pockets. A moment later he digs out a teabag sealed in a small plastic sandwich bag.

"I don't suppose you know anything about this?" he prompts, and tilts his head curiously before offering a slow smile. "Tea spiked with fairy magic."

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick frowns down at the teabag and takes it from Lancelot's hand. He opens the plastic bag peers down at it for a moment before he smirks back up at Lancelot. He can tell what the magic is, even if he doesn't know where it came from.

"Did you drink some of this?"

[knightscode]

He can't help but match the smirk with a slight smile of his own but he feels bad for it, drops his eyes and shakes his head.

"No," he says finally, "but a friend of mine did. Someone spread quite a lot of this stuff. Some of it's milder, some... dangerous." Lancelot hesitates, lets out a slow breath. "I need to know if it can be... stopped, if it will wear off or if... get worse, if something needs to be done. He's a good friend, and..." Lancelot tilts his head, trying to word things delicately. "... I don't want this to be more awkward for him than it already is."

ii

[whatmatters]

Ringer saw Lancelot before he noticed her and ignored the kneejerk instinct to turn and disappear. Whether she liked it or not, the man was a part of Faolan's inner circle and Faolan was the leader of her faction and something of an ally to her. That compelled her to make at least a minimal effort and she knew it. This was made easier by her recent shift in goals and her new desire to learn more about the Night Council.

And so, instead of hiding, she walked over in his direction. It was the first time she had seen him since jail. It occurred to her it might be his clone again, or perhaps he was finally freed. She hadn't really kept up on the story. Whatever the case, she called out to him when finally nearby.

"You look tired." It didn't occur to her that the idle observation might be rude. He looked tired.

[knightscode]

He's a little surprised to be approached by Ringer -- honestly, getting conversation from her had been a little like getting blood from a stone and he'd rather assumed she didn't much like him. Yet here she is, walking up to him, and the surprise on his face gives way to a smile easily.

"I am. Been a busy few months."

Turning he finishes unlooping Lily's leash from where she'd been waiting outside the shop he'd been in (another dead end, no information, nobody saw anything. Fae.) and drawing her to his side. She looks up at him expectantly and intensely, perhaps for a clue as to what they are going to do now or perhaps hooping for a treat, and he drops a hand to ruffle her ears.

"Luckily I have expert assistance," He drops his eyes sideways to Lily who sits and swishes her tail as she stares up at him. Yes, yes she is good! What is she being good at? She isn't sure, but she will be very good at it!

[whatmatters]

"I take it you've solved your curse or doppelganger problem?" She asks curiously. It's not common for her to visit someone in jail and even less so for them to then be walking freely on the streets not long after. Lancelot is an officer, she knows, and that probably helped his case. The prejudice of police to defend their own.

Ringer's eyes drop to the dog when Lancelot mentions it, accepting the pet as an addition to their conversation without really welcoming her. No crouching down or request to pet, not withdrawing or disgusted faces. The girl never had a pet growing up and, even now, they remain somewhat foreign to her.

"What are you investigating now? How to permanently ban the fae from our world?" It's asked with the exact same tone as usual, not meant to be accusatory, but a genuine question.

[knightscode]

Lancelot is distracted checking through his pockets, so he doesn't entirely process what Ringer says at first -- but the moment he does is entirely clear for the alarm that crosses his face.

"Yes," he says, then looks up sharply. "Wait -- no! I mean, yes I solved my -- doppelgänger. A fae was impersonating me. They can glamour to look like anyone they wish, I was an easy target I suppose since I already have a little fae magic. It didn't matter if they sensed his glamour. But -- no! Why would I... be investigating how to ban fae -- from our world? I've no idea how you would even do something on that scale..."