[Open] I'm Not the Same Kid From Your Memory

[tearmeanewone]

Date: Catch-all for February
What: A crisis of conscience. But what can someone as separated from politics like her do?

How humiliating.

Elizabeth had known from the start that she wasn't fit to be Maiden, and yet she'd let Norrell and Sylvia talk her into being paraded around as a possibility, not thinking about what would happen when she-- surprise surprise!-- wasn't. Landing in the water after being harassed hadn't been so great either, and Norrell's reaction (or really, lack thereof) spoke volumes. He probably would have preferred that she'd drowned quietly, wouldn't he?

She's been staying away from the circle, embarrassed and feeling betrayal she probably had no business feeling. And used, that was the worst feeling of all. They'd used her. Just like in Virginia.

But what was she supposed to do? These were the people who were supposed to protect her, and instead they're parading her around like a show pony with a big 'KILL ME' sign around her neck. Leaving would be suicide, and who else would teach her how to use her power? Not Circle Midnight, obviously. So she had to, somehow, make her own situation tenable.

[A - Early February]

But how? She didn't know anyone, she intentionally stayed out of things if she could help it, unless it involved keeping people alive. February is still freezing by her standards, but the only way to get her mind quiet is to run. So she starts jogging at the park near her dorm-- she's pretty fast on her own, even when she's dressed for the cold weather. As she runs, she goes back and forth in her head. How fast, realistically, would she be crushed if she actually stood up to Norrell?


[B - Mid February, for Illya]

As much as she thought about it, she could really only speculate about the outcomes. She needs someone who will be painfully blunt with her, and fortunately she actually knows someone like that. Who she just happens to have a certain potion for-- at least something good came from assisting Norrell at Croydon again. Elizabeth sends Illya a text and waits at the deli they'd last met at, mostly staring out the window and waiting instead of drinking her coffee.


[C - Late February]

It's really the only option available to her, she thinks as she downs another shot. Elizabeth is young and inexperienced, but she isn't dumb. Norrell assured her assistance at first because she thought the same kind of loyalty would be extended to her, and the second time he'd bought her fair and square. But the incident on the boat is decidedly unforgivable. He's a jackass is what he is. What kind of leader just watched his student struggle to not drown?

Not again. She'd be damned if she let herself be moved around a board like a chess piece by Gilbert Norrell again.

...Not that she is one-hundred percent sure of what she's going to do or how she's going to go about it, but that's something for a night that's not the one she's decided to quietly rebel against her mentor. Right now, she's enjoying some drinking and dancing away from her roommate. Just remembering what it's like to live free for a night.

Comments

B

[fatherswatch]

"It will get cold soon," Illya offers when he approaches, having been watching the steam lift off the coffee for a few moments while he made his way over. Working both Redbright and Westminster puts him near the deli a lot more often, so coming now hadn't been difficult.

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth doesn't know how she missed Illya coming into the deli, but maybe she really was zoning out more than she'd thought. Nevertheless, she flashes a small smile and pulls her cup a little closer. "Maybe I was waiting for it to cool."

No, she had other things on her mind.

"I finished the thing you asked me for," she says, pulling her bag into her lap as he has a seat. Once he's settled, Elizabeth is holding out an aluminum thermos to him.

[fatherswatch]

Illya's eyes widen a bit at the sight of the thermos, and he can't help the soft sigh of relief he gives. At the very least, he can see if it's made properly. It can't do any more harm than having nothing does.

"Thank you. I'm very grateful."

[tearmeanewone]

"You're welcome. I was happy to make it for you." She can see that it's brought some relief to him, and that's worth any trouble it could have been to make it. "You'll have to tell me how it goes. Mr. Norrell drilled the process into me for over eight hours, but talented or not I'm still new at it."

A

[hurtfew]

Norrell himself is bundled up heavily against the cold, hurrying along through it with a small stack of folders clutched to his chest. He has plenty to do what with this blow to his cause, and little enough time to do it in.

When he spots Elizabeth he pauses, frowns slightly before changing direction to intercept her.

"Miss DeWitt!" he calls out, hurrying faster to try and catch up with her. "Miss DeWitt! One moment!"

[tearmeanewone]

You could keep running. Just keep running. Straight into the river or the ocean, whichever comes first.

Elizabeth slows down, partially because she's used to deferring to Norrell, partially because it's just bizarre that she was thinking about him and now he's right here.

"Good morning, Mr. Norrell," Elizabeth tries to appear bright and cheerful as he closes the distance between them. "You need help with all of that?"

What else was she going to comment on, after all?

[hurtfew]

Help? He blinks looks down at his folders then shakes his head and tightens his grip.

"No, no! I am quite at home with carrying my own files! I wished only to express my sympathy! It is not at all right that Abigail has stolen your title from you! Oh, they might say that she fulfilled the signs but we both know she is not at all right for the role! I would not be surprised if it was some ploy by her Circle! I begun looking into it directly that I heard, and you can be sure that if anything can be done before the official passing of the title in March it will be!"

He smiles at her, seemingly thinking this is reassuring. To him, it would be! He would never stand for being overlooked in such a way.

[tearmeanewone]

Sympathy? How about he express some sympathy for being pawed by that lecherous witch? No of course not, that wouldn't get him anywhere.

"If there's anything that can be done, Mr. Norrell, I'm sure you'll do it," she says with a smile. "I'm honestly curious as to how you're going to go about it, though, the signs seemed very clear."

C

[falsify]

It's almost like he can sense the disillusionment with Norrell and comes running.

He can't though, and in fact it's pure coincidence that sees Eames here. One of his contacts favours this place, and he's getting a drink at the bar while he waits. He does a bit of a double take when he sees Elizabeth throwing back a shot, never having seen her outside a conflict. It's like seeing a sheered sheep for the first time.

"Rough day?" He asks. Doing shots on your own is never a good sign.

[tearmeanewone]

Oh look, the crazed and murderous fae from Croydon.

This is not at all alarming, given the amount of alcohol Elizabeth has put into her tonight. If she dies, well... okay, sure.

"Rough month," she clarifies, leaning on the bar and looking the image of wronged-drunk-woman. "How's yours been?"

[falsify]

It's a situational murderousness, okay. He had no intention of killing her then, and he has no intention of it now. His manner is downright genial in fact. Of course Elizabeth has bore witness to how easily Eames can change his affectation, so maybe that doesn't count for much.

Still. He answers her question with a short, bitter laugh. "Seems to be a common feeling across the city," he says as he inspects his glass and takes a long drink.

[tearmeanewone]

"Yeah? What happened to you?"

Yes, this rough-and-tumble tone is coming out of the witch who, just weeks previous, had been offering to heal him despite their being on opposite sides. It appears she doesn't have much of the "Kumbaya Spirit" left today.

C

[growsowngoats]

Siobhan very rarely cries.

A lifetime of being burdened with other people's pain has, for one, made her somewhat prone to not feeling particularly entitled to her own, but it has also simply made her more or less force herself to have a positive outlook on almost everything. You can always find the light, sometimes you just have to look a little harder for it.

She too was suggested as Maiden, which more than anything just struck her as funny because she is not really a leader and she knows it. In all honesty she isn't sure she believes all that much in the current way of doing things. Structure, hierarchy, these things don't exactly work very well with her spirit.

She is an anarchist at heart, in truth, and she is struggling here in London, finding no purchase as she scrambles at the walls of the supernatural community, trying to climb over them or better yet, tear them down.

So, for once, she is allowing herself to have a bit of a cry, tears dripping into her ridiculous fruity drink that she couldn't really afford but bought anyway because sometimes you just make dumb decisions when you're sad.

[tearmeanewone]

Ah, Elizabeth recognizes her from the parading around of the Maiden contenders. And now she's crying into her drink. Poor thing, Elizabeth remembers keenly when that's how she felt after arriving in London with almost nothing except unfamiliar powers and a suitcase.

She chews on her lip for a moment, and then pushes off the bar. Even if they hadn't formally met, a Daybreak sister was still a sister. Right?

"Hey," she says, sliding into the seat next to her. "Your name is Siobhan, right?"

[growsowngoats]

Siobhan wipes her tears away and turns toward Elizabeth, offering her a somewhat shaky (but genuine) little smile. Sisters indeed, that is certainly how she feels about it.

"Aye, and you're Elizabeth."

Her Scottish brogue is soft, but very distinctive, and she offers Elizabeth a hand to shake (after wiping it a little on her jeans).

"Nice to meet you. Y'know, properly."

[tearmeanewone]

"Nice to properly meet you too," she agrees, clearly as American as she's no doubt been purported to be. She shakes Siobhan's hand comfortably, before bringing her eyebrows together in some friendly concern.

"You want to talk about why you're adding something extra to that... pink thing, whatever it is?"

Somebody doesn't frequent bars often either.

[occultdisciple]

"Miss DeWitt?"

He's out, doing his own investigating. There's work to be done with the Guardians, yes, but he also has plenty of other leads to follow up. Just because he doesn't know who's to blame. And until he knows that? He can't enlist help. But seeing her...

But he knows her, even bundled up. Norrell's Maiden candidate. Plenty of unfortunate consequences had come of that.

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth slows her jog and turns around, tilting her head curiously at the man. She's seen him before, she's fairly certain of that. Maybe around Norrell, maybe on the cruise...? Hard to say for certain.

"Yes?"

[occultdisciple]

"Good day."

He offers his hand forward.

"Lord Colin Coward. We met briefly on the Night Council's cruise. I was the representative of the Islington Nest there."

C

[acrookedchild]

"Elizabeth?"

Abigail asks it even though she's almost certain of it. Normally, parties aren't her thing, but she agreed to come with a few other Midnight girls. ...Who have ditched her. But she can't really blame them.

Still, she gives a grin and nods to the empty glass.

"I've got a tab. What're you drinking?"

[tearmeanewone]

Oooh, whoops.

She's tipsy in front of the Maiden, that's probably some kind of weird thing, right? Respect of Position or something? For a moment Elizabeth looks like a deer in the headlights, but blinks it off a few seconds later.

"Ahhh... shots," she says with a guilty grin. "You probably shouldn't, I probably shouldn't have honestly. But, you know. Uh. Yolo?"

That's what people their age said, right?

"What do you drink usually?"

[acrookedchild]

"Tonight?" Abby says with a grin. "Shots."

Usually, she's the kind to sit at a table with a glass or two of wine. Four if she's really feeling like letting loose. But this is supposed to be just fun. Getting to see the community.

Not, as the girls who dragged her out said, 'being a Widdowson' for one night.

C

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick doesn't find himself in these types of places very often, but his new role of lord comes with a few annoying responsibilities, including the fact that he is now a recognizable face to be called on whenever someone in the Seelie court has a petty problem that needs solving. That somehow leads him here, to this bar, completely at the end of his patience.

He does a quick survey of the room and doesn't see anyone at first glance, and the nearest person is a young witch putting down a shot glass at the bar. He braces himself for the incredibly dumb question he's about to ask, putting on a smooth smile and tapping her on the shoulder.

"Pardon me," he says, in that voice he uses, "I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen a man come through here in a three-piece fuchsia suit?"

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth turns around when she feels someone tap her shoulder, expecting it to be someone who just needs to get the attention of the bartender, but-- wow. Of course, everyone's voice sounds attractive to the very drunk, but there's still something about it that has her staring dumbly for a second.

"...sorry-- yes, fuchsia suit. I... did see someone like that, horrific tie too? Looked like it had tiny Scottie dogs all over it?"

[thelittlemerman]

He gives her a sweet smile, nodding slightly in thanks. "That should be him. At least, I hope there's only one man in a fuchsia suit wandering around in this part of town tonight," he says. This whole thing is so dumb but he knows how valuable a good first impression is, no matter who this witch is.

"You didn't happen to see where he went, did you?"