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

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

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.

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"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.

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!"

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.

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?

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.

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."

That would be crude, Elizabeth! His smile stays fixed, pleased with her assurance.

"Oh, they did, very clear indeed -- perhaps too clear. I have wondered if perhaps there was some arrangement made beforehand, if the matter was handled dishonestly!"

A very strong and alarming suggestion, of course, but equally one he has not voiced too loudly just yet for that very reason. He lofts his eyebrows at her.

"It seems to me it was very suspicious that Miss Widdowson managed to make her way aboard the vessel when she was not even invited, for one thing. Very suspicious! She may well have had inside assistance to make her fit to the sign!"

Elizabeth can't stop the look of flat skepticism before it makes it to her face.

"So you're saying the previous Maiden and Circle Midnight somehow conspired to put Abigail in the position?" That seems incredibly likely-- not. "And get her into the party?" That's perhaps a little more reasonable. As is this apparent revelation that Abigail was intentionally kept away from the event. She can't even be shocked at this point at the hypocrisy of it-- crying foul when he and Sylvia Redbright had played their own game trying to twist things into their favor. But this has no doubt always been going on, and Elizabeth just refused to look at it because it would mean she'd have to look at it.

"And I suppose she could have lied about having been born on Samhain, right?" It isn't like there aren't dozens of records, probably, of her being born then. If anything, they'd reached to claim Elizabeth had some strong connection to some important day.

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."

"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."

"The world of politics can be a confusing place, Miss DeWitt, often people are not as honest as they seem! I myself have been surprised on many occasions by the behaviour of those I thought honest or respectable!"

It is not hypocrisy to Norrell, of course, because he so firmly believes himself in the right. He is doing what is best for magic, for Great Britain! It is one of those 'greater good' situations, Elizabeth! He will of course understand if her young mind and delicate female temperament finds this all objectionable and confusing.

"I will be sure to let you know." It sounded like she'd been well taught, but that didn't always mean something hadn't gone wrong or the like. But the promise of not hurting himself with the next transformation was a welcome one.

"Great," Elizabeth nods, folding her hands in her lap and sitting across from him awkwardly as he puts the thermos away. This had been the thrust of the meeting, true, but she obviously has something else on her mind.

"Did you hear about the cruise that happened at the end of last month? That... potential-Maiden thing?"

If Elizabeth could hear prose, she would have thrown up a little in her mouth. Having been at the center of a great deal of 'Politics' and 'Dishonesty' and 'Disreputable Behavior', she's fairly certain that she would know it when she saw it. But then again, Norrell apparently pulled the wool over her eyes for quite a while, probably because she wanted so desperately to believe that somebody, anybody cared about her.

"You don't say."

"Oh, absolutely! It is a sad thing. I must confess, I labour under a disadvantage myself. I am a scholar, Miss DeWitt, not a politician. I cannot abide to sit and talk, debate, as some do. To make smalltalk with strangers and connections. Yet this lot has fallen to me, and so it is that I have done my best to try and learn -- although I heartily wish it had fallen to someone else!"

He offers Elizabeth a sad smile, as if she might at this point pity him for the terrible hardships he endures so nobly.

Such hardships he endures from the comfortable chair he sits in while preventing people from returning to their homes. There's so much wrong with the depiction of Norrell's suffering, Elizabeth can hardly stand it. But as honest as Elizabeth tries to be, she just can't. Not right now. She sighs quietly and puts a hand on her mentor's shoulder.

"You seem to handle it so well, though! If I'd known you were struggling, I would have offered to help more."

And Illya waits patiently. The way she acts tells him there's more to this than the potion. It's something he's used to. Handlers and assets rarely tell him everything right away. They start with a basic principle then move forward from there.

"I did. I am afraid I do not know much about witch politics here, but I am familiar with the basics of what was happening, yes."

"...well, okay, I guess that's a start." She says slowly, and a little awkwardly. Because what she's building up to is fairly unrelated to the political proceedings. "I... sort of meant the fact that I ended up in the water."

"In the water? How?"

Because that... Well. If he heard it, he hadn't been listening. Obviously she was fine, ultimately, but he wouldn't say that. It didn't seem to him as if she wanted someone to laugh it off or otherwise dismiss whatever had happened.

"One of the older gentleman witches thought I should get up on the railing." The way she looks at Illya suggests just how much choice she had in getting up there. "And I guess he hadn't felt a woman's legs in a while, because he certainly helped himself."

And in leaning away, she'd gone over the rail.

Illya arches a brow slightly at that description. It is, to say the least, odd. How she had ended up on the rail and why he had been allowed that close in the first place was difficult to comprehend. BUt that was obviously not the point, so he shakes his hea da bit.

"It is unfortunate that many do not seem to understand manners."

"Unfortunate, but not unheard of. But I imagine people watch their manners around you more than they watch them around me," she says with a pointed look.

"...No one except for one of the waiters tried to do anything. They just stared at me. My mentor looked embarrassed."

For a moment, his lips twist into the barest hint of a smile. He thinks of Solo and Gaby and Waverly. Of Rudy and Oleg. 'You might be surprised' is on the tip of his tongue, but he puts the thought aside, and the expression disappears seconds later. Calmly, he shakes his head.

"There is little more dangerous than a bystander," he murmurs. "I am sorry I was not there."

"I wish you had been there. I might not have frozen the hem of my dress into my life raft." She snorts.

"But that's not the point. The point is... my mentor got me into that position, and when I needed help, he wouldn't even look at me. And that's what he is, in a nutshell. Excited to see me when I can put a feather in his cap, can't remember my name when I need something. And I'm tired of it."

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.

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

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