[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

[falsify]

"He hasn't taught you anything at all?" Eames asks, openly a little surprised by that. But then, should he be? Norrell's lack of respect for other witches is a well known and documented fact.

[tearmeanewone]

"Oh he's taught me plenty. Lectured plenty. But I lit a whole candle on fire the other day because this has me so upset," she sighs and shrugs. "I'm at least better at healing and lockpicking, despite the limited practical education. And I can do some potions, too, actually. But spells?" She puts her chin in both her hands, vastly depressed. "I feel so behind."

[falsify]

Eames considers this for a moment or two, leaning on the bar with a thoughtful look on his face. "Perhaps you should look elsewhere for tutelage." How is a witch going to learn to use their power without any practical training? Telling someone how to use a car is a far cry from actually driving one, after all.

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth raises her eyebrows in mock-scandal and shakes her head.

Then she smirks and nods her head.

"Oh, but he can't know--" Elizabeth says, reaching out to put her hand on Eames' elbow if only because she's apparently a physical drunk. She looks worried like Eames is going to walk up onto Norrell's doorstep and tell him her nefarious plot to find a tutor. "Otherwise he'll give me the boot for sure. He thinks I love reading annotations he's made about magical theories, I have to keep it that way."

[falsify]

Eames laughs and pats her hand, "can't know what?" He asks, pretending that this entire conversation hadn't just happened. And then he smirks over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip of his drink, expression just a little devious. "oh, that you can't stand him and his teaching is insufficient? Goodness no."

[tearmeanewone]

"Yes, that," she presses, giggling into her own drink. Maybe it was an incredibly bad idea to get this personal with someone who wasn't a fan of Daybreak, but Elizabeth imagines she can guess, even drunk, who he'd pick given a choice between her and Norrell. That made her... safer? Maybe?

"If you tell him, and I get thrown out and killed, I swear I will haunt you until you die. Which I hear is a very, very, very long time."

[falsify]

"I hear ghosts are quite the delicacy," Eames raises his eyebrows and gives her a knowing nod, as if telling her 'your move'. He's never taken a soul himself, never had any interest in it, but some fae make it their entire life.

No need to lead her down that dark road, however. Eames gestures broadly with the hand holding his drink and shrugs, "but. You have my word, I won't tell Norrell how little you care for him."

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth makes a little shocked and outraged noise, though it's a little hindered by the laugh that follows it. Daring to fly in the face of the fae lord, she leans in and narrows her eyes.

"I'd taste like old paper and spite all the way down, you can count on that," she threatens-- jokingly, of course.

"I didn't think I needed you word-- unless you think I'm worse than a slimy asshole, in which case maybe I do," she says, sipping at her drink again.

[falsify]

He likes this girl, Eames decides. She has an edge to her that he hadn't seen the last couple of times they met.

"Most people find it reassuring," Eames says with an airy gesture, as though imparting great knowledge, "surely Norrell's ranted at great length about the dangers of my kind?"

[tearmeanewone]

The last couple of times they'd met, Elizabeth hadn't been on her way to shitfaced. But in truth, she's starting to feel a little freer in general. Less restricted by her nerves and what she's 'supposed' to feel about her circle.

"Oh, he can't shut up about it," Elizabeth nearly puts her forehead onto the glass laughing. It's a sad, miserable kind of laugh though. "I got my skirt flipped by a fae, and I still don't think anybody can trust even your solemnest word, but who cares what people do as long as they're not... hurting anybody or flipping anybody's skirt?

"Yes, I think that fae who contract with people and then go back on it are awful, terrible fae-- but..." She stops and looks a little lost for a moment before she finishes. "...but maybe if people trust that they're going to get an unlimited favor of limitless power, they're the saps."

[falsify]

Eames laughs again, "think you're too clever to be tricked into a deal then?

There's no intent there, just idle curiosity. He's not too interested in tricking her into some shitty deal when she could turn out to be much more useful in the long term.

[tearmeanewone]

Elizabeth turns the question over in her head, and fidgets with her glass turning it around and around clockwise.

"I don't think I'm too clever for anything," she concludes, her voice lilting just a little from how much she's had to drink. After a moment she smirks at him like she has a secret. "But I like to think I'm incredibly sensitive to something like that."