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
"I drink tea several times per day, often from different establishments. I remember the day I was afflicted and the.. symptoms. I don't recall where I bought my tea that morning."
no subject
"Can you tell me day it was, then? And anything else you're comfortable sharing. It may help us get to the bottom of things. I've already had another witch begin looking into the effects and we hope she may learn how to undo it if not more about where it came from."
no subject
She shrugs, knowing it's probably not all that helpful. "I remember I went to a new place that morning. I'll give you a list of the cafes I purchase from regularly, so you can eliminate those."
no subject
"You aren't the only person who has suffered this, I promise. Do not feel badly about it. Think on it, perhaps? Then send me your list. I will do my best to look into each place and... well, hopefully make sure there is none of this tea left. Do you still have my number?"
He squints at her questioningly, ready to give it to her if not.
no subject
"I have your number," she affirms. "I can send you the list tonight."