Lancelot du Lac (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knightscode) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-02-20 12:45 pm
knightscode) wrote in undergrounds2016-02-20 12:45 pm
Entry tags:
MEMORIES [ ACTIVE / OPEN ]
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.
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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
At least, until he catches sight of the both of them there. Lancelot standing with his hand on the girl's arm, Siobhan the bright presence that she always is. Had he known that they had known each other? Lancelot had mentioned he'd be bringing in a witch, but he didn't know that it would be her. Someone Faolan knew himself.
He pauses in the threshold and takes stock of the scene before him, forgetting himself, forgetting that she's an empath, forgetting mostly everything but the fact that Lancelot had been alone with her before he had walked in the door. His eyes narrow and the words spill from his lips of their own accord. "I hope I'm not interrupting..."
no subject
Still, as ever it makes her oddly happy to see Faolan's grumpy face, so she steps away from Lancelot to go give her other friend a hug as well. She refrains from kissing his cheek though, there's too much prickle going on.
"'Course you're not, silly man."
no subject
He slides a packet out from a bag and drops it onto a table near her, grins over at Faolan before lofting an eyebrow at his expression.
"You need another coffee?" he prompts, because in his experience drawing too much attention to Faolan's demeanour can just make things worse. He'd rather gently ease him of it than rile him further while in Siobhan's company.
no subject
"...maybe," he responds, to Lancelot's prompting. Which in Faolan's vocabulary at this point of course means yes. It's better that Lancelot himself is making the suggestion, though. As it stands, Faolan can't quite control himself or his impression on the world around him. A distraction suggested by Siobhan would simply be construed differently than one by Lancelot. That's how an obsession works, after all...
"How do the pair of you know each other?" he can't help but asking, as he reaches for a doughnut himself.
no subject
Being able to feel the emotions of all living things means you end up not being too keen on a lot of foods out there (though she can't really be too picky most of the time) but coffee? Coffee is fine and she is going to bloody well allow herself to love it.
"We met when you were out walking Lily, wasn't it?"
Not too long ago, really, but she feels as if she's known Lancelot forever.
no subject
He was in the picture too, but Lily was the most important part. Her happy puppy face! He grins at both of them, moving over to begin digging through the cupboards. The only option here is either vend coffee (very suspicious, the sort with powder milk and a weird after taste) or filter, so he's going to set up some filter coffee if it's all the same to everyone.
"I still have that, you know! I had it framed!"
no subject
He turns to frown at Siobhan, trying to fit in what he knows of her with this new information as well. "That was yours?" he asks, uncertainly. He knows that she can do metal work -- she'd made him that medallion after all, but the two didn't always come hand in hand.
no subject
"Aye!"
Said around a mothful of donut before she swallows, continuing:
"Just a quick sketch really but it turned out pretty cute."
How could it not, which such an adorable subject to draw?
no subject
Spoken like a truly infatuated dog owner. He finishes setting the coffee going and turns back to them, snags a napkin and a doughnut and takes a breath. Right, work things.
"Finish your food, then we can take a look at this offending tea. Won't get far if all we can think about is the doughnuts. We've got a few samples like I said, not recommended for drinking. One is what Faolan drunk, the others we collected from other people and we're not as sure how strong they are -- they may all be the same or different. You'd know better than I do. Do you... need me to get anything?"
Water? Dishes? He doesn't know how you investigate tea.
no subject
But he also is aware that he's probably going to have to answer some questions himself about this, since he's their guinea pig of sorts. And he's not quite certain how he feels about that, really. For the greater good, yes he will do what he can. But will he particularly enjoy any of it, especially when it's not just Lancelot asking, but a third party empath for that matter? Hardly.
Faolan frowns grumpily and takes a bite of his doughnut, glancing at Siobhan for a long moment himself, before forcing himself to pipe up and say, "I. Can answer what questions I can. About the side-effects. If you need it." They have statements from other people, but since he'd had some and he's right there...
no subject
Instead, she looks over at Faolan.
"Are you bein' all jealous because of the tea or is that just you being you?"
There's no judgment in the question, even if it's very bluntly asked.
no subject
Flicking his eyes sideways he studies him, the awkward tension in him, and wrinkles his nose slightly.
"It's all right. Siobhan can help fix it if you tell her about it."
no subject
"You know, it's really not easy to keep a cool head with the pair of you teaming up to insult me like that as well," he growls at the other man. Hoping it's warning enough that while he doesn't mind the fact that he's trying to help lighten the mood, if it continues to be at his expense he may need to be physically restrained for everyone's safety.
He tosses a glance to Siobhan as well, and his common sense, the knowledge that she means him no harm -- it's warring with the part of him that's, well, been almost literally poisoned against her. And all others, for that matter. "There's something in the tea," he says. "A love potion maybe. But it's all wrong." He glances to Lancelot, then down to the floor, slightly ashamed of what he's being forced to admit. "Whatever's in the strain I drank, at least. It's. Gone too far."
no subject
Siobhan watches him carefully, though not really with her eyes even though they are certainly on him.
She suddenly seems rather different where she sits, improbably folded into her seat as always. There is a calm that has settled over her features as she sinks further into her ability to feel and understand emotions, and she seems suddenly older and younger than her years at the same time. Ageless.
"Not a love potion. It's all twisty and angry, more like..."
She gestures a little with her hands, searching for the right word.
"Oh bugger it, what's that word. When you're all hung up on something and you can't let it go."
no subject
"Fixated?" he prompts, jerking an eyebrow slightly. It seems to fix what she describes.
no subject
"Obsessed," he says, growling because he really doesn't want to be admitting to any of this. "It's an obsession." He throws a glance between the pair of them before forcing himself on. "An obsession with him, if that wasn't obvious. I can't." He heaves out a sigh, stepping across the room away from the pair of them, wishing the coffee was already done so he could have some right about now. "I can't think straight, I can't make rational decisions. Everyone is a threat. And there's a corner of my mind that knows this isn't me, that this is whatever the hell was in that tea, that's aware the judgments I'm making aren't valid, but does that stop me from making them?" He throws a glance back at the pair of them, angry and defeated at once.
"I don't trust myself right now," he admits. "And I'm not sure whether either of you should for that matter either."
no subject
Poor Faolan. Siobhan isn't sure how to comfort him, and she doesn't like knowing that most likely she plain can't.
Maybe she can at least sort out this tea situation for him, if she tries hard enough.
"I trust you, love. Might be a bit more careful around you than usual, but I trust you. How'd you end up drinking the tea?"
no subject
"It's all right," he assures Faolan, "we both trust you."
He reaches out and squeezes Faolan's shoulder, drops the hand to rub at his arm before turning to check the coffee. Faolan can answer the questions himself, after all, he isn't a child and Lancelot refuses to speak for him.
no subject
His gaze Lancelot's movements to the coffee despite himself, even as he answers the question asked. "I had a headache," he says, honestly. "I thought that tea might help. Maybe I'd had too much coffee already. There was some just out in the kitchen here. I didn't even question it," he continues, his voice growing slightly more bitter as he does. As though he's angry with himself for the mistake -- and in some ways, he is.
no subject
"So someone planted it here. Any reason to suspect it might be a fae thing?"
She doesn't like to make assumptions but the whole thing does kind of have a fae sort of touch to it.
no subject
He tugs out some cups and begins to pour out the coffee for them, handing out the mugs and sliding the sugar and milk toward Siobhan. If memory serves she'll want to drown hers in the stuff.
"It's not your fault," he adds, lifting his own coffee to take a sip as he stops beside Faolan. Trying to keep himself casually in the other man's personal space in the vague hope it'll keep him calm. "It isn't as if you could have known they hit this place too."
no subject
"I'm never going to drink another cup of tea again," Faolan grumbles, raising his coffee to take a small sip of it, even though he knows the liquid is still too hot for him to really drink from yet. He takes a moment to collect himself, sticking to Lancelot's side, before he hazards a question himself. "If they planted it here, it was certainly targeting the council. And as far as enemies of the council are concerned, the obvious signs would point to either the fae or Circle midnight." He raises an eyebrow at the pair of them in turn.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)