Every single holiday, a head in a box

[falsify]

The joke is it is in fact a head in the box. Thread headers inside. Any issues or questions, please don't hesitate to send me a PM/contact me on plurk/comment on the plotting post!

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INVESTIGATION

[falsify]

CLUES

• Anyone with a particular sensitivity to magic will note there is some on the head. Further investigation will yield a bag of herbs/spices/misc. in the mouth. Eames or anyone with a particularly good knowledge of potions can tell you it's a concoction used to temporarily halt decay. Can't rely on Royal Mail to always deliver in a timely fashion, you know.
• A few of the items used to preserve the head are quite rare, even in magical circles. Using whatever skills you have at your disposal, you can probably narrow the field to three suppliers across London.
• For obvious reasons, sellers are hesitant to share details about their customers. But they can be worn down and persuaded eventually. Across the three, a store in Kingston is notable for repeat custom from a local Daybreak Coven.
• Similarly, the leader of this coven doesn't want to give anything up, but mention the head or if Faolan throws his Night Council status at her and she'll quickly cave. Those two are clearly past her help.
• She will give you the names of two witches of her coven - Elise and Sadie - who favour more... Aggressive methods, shall we say, and tell you where they live. She also asks you not to kill them, if it's at all possible

HILLINGDON: GATHER!

[reticence]

As head of Hillingdon House, Faolan doesn't usually organize Hillingdon towards an investigation, especially when there's a bounty in the mix. But when he finds himself with a literal decapitated head dumped in his lap, it is suddenly his problem and as such, he feels that it's his priority to make certain that there is something done about it.

So the first thing he does is let it be known about the head, putting a call out to the whole faction, asking for a roundup of whoever thinks they might be able to help, and letting them know that there has been a monetary reward for solving the crime. For them to meet him in his office to go over strategies to follow. And to take a look at the head, if they like.

He's trying his damnedest to ignore it in the meanwhile, personally.

[specifiercity]

Arthur shows up purely out of curiousity. He has no idea if he's going to try and take on this specific case, but when there's a decapitated head in a box he has to find out more. You know, for science.

Anyway here he is in Faolan's office, poking his head in and raising his eyebrow with a skeptical look on his face as he says, "I heard a rumour about a head in a box."

[reticence]

Faolan raises his own head to glance at who might have shown up to his invitation like this, and raises his eyebrow in turn at the mention of the head itself. "Would that the rumors were only that," he says, capping his pen and then gesturing that if Arthur wants to come in and see this he'd better shut the door behind him.

Once the other man has done that much, he beckons the other man over around his desk, to where he's essentially been sitting next to the thing all day. Well. The box. Sitting the head out while he worked would have just been macabre. "It was dropped off not too long ago. Apparently someone had received it in the post." He glances at Arthur, raising an eyebrow to see what he thinks of that himself.

[specifiercity]

Arthur puts his hands in his pockets and raises his eyebrows at the box. He still kind of wants to take a look, but at the same time he really doesn't. He's seen death and he's seen real-life gore, but nothing curbs the curiousity for something like this.

"A threat?" he asks, glancing up at Faolan. "Who was it sent to?"

[reticence]

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest and resisting the urge to reach out and poke the box with his foot, but only just. "A man named Eames," he answers. "Or I suppose a fae, to be more precise. He came by with it not too long ago, offering payment to whoever took the problem off of his hands, literally and metaphorically speaking."

He glances up at Arthur, to watch his face. "We've got an identity on the head, at least. I guess this Eames knew her. Before..." Before someone lopped off her head and sent it to him in the post, that is.

[specifiercity]

"Eames?"

Contrary to popular believe, Arthur does not have that good a poker face, so at the mention of Eames' name the recognition and confusion is plain on his face. This is immediately followed by a shake of his head as he mentally berates himself for being so obvious and then a sigh as he looks back down at the box.

"Seems a little... aggressive. Maybe vampires."

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows slightly at the other man, disregarding the suggestion of vampires for a moment and focusing on the flicker of recognition. Arthur knows this fae, that is plain. Perhaps that is why the fae was so keen on making this Hillingdon's problem in particular. Who knows what this Eames really knows of the place.

"You know him?" he asks, though from the look on his face it's clear he already knows the answer is yes.

[specifiercity]

Arthur seems a little annoyed that Faolan picked up on that, as if anyone wouldn't, so he sighs. "Yeah," he says reluctantly, "he's a contact. We've, uh, traded information a number of times."

It's the truth.

[constantprisoner]

"That is really disconcerting," Sirius says, point at the box as he comes into the office. He's thankful that the head's not out, given he saw enough of it when it was dropped off, but the knowledge that it's that there. Being a head. In a box. Is not a thought he is fond of entertaining.

"So what's the plan?"

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows slightly, glancing down at the box before looking back at Sirius himself and just shrugs. What else is he supposed to do with the thing? It's evidence, part of the investigation, and they need it on hand if they want to do any more investigating of the physical object itself. It might be a clue, or several for that matter. Although the fact that it's a decapitated head and it's sitting in a box on the floor in his office... Yeah. It is rather disconcerting.

"We've been tasked with solving the mystery of the head in the post," Faolan says, leaning forward over his desk and sighing slightly. "I figured we'd call in whoever we could to get what they could from this, and then go from there. I mean. It's a head in a box. Sent to our benefactor. That's really all we know to start with at least."

[constantprisoner]

"So who sent it, and why, basically? Well, they must not like him very much. That or it's a warning."

At least, those are Sirius's initial observations. Although some of them might be derived from books and movies he's seen, not having a lot of experience with conducting investigations. And the exact reasoning eludes him at the moment.

"Don't suppose our benefactor had any ideas?"

[reticence]

Faolan shakes his head. "He does and he doesn't. Insofar as he is a member of the fae royalty, and therefore it could have pretty much have been anyone. Anyone mad at the fae, anyone mad at the court, or anyone who's taken offense to him personally..." He heaves out a sigh. "It's a pretty long list if you put it all together. With a decent amount of overlap, to be true."

[constantprisoner]

Sirius echoes the sigh. That doesn't make it easy and he's not even sure how to start crossing people off that list.

"Pretty much anyone is right, though there have to be some people in that group not interested in cutting off heads."

Sorting through that would probably take some time as well.

[reticence]

"He did at least give us the identity of our victim," Faolan confirms. "Which should help us to narrow some things down. I'm hoping that anyone with extra abilities might be able to see what they can...pick up from the evidence itself, as it were."

The evidence of course being the head itself as well as the box that it had been sent in. Faolan may have newly budding special abilities, but they're definitely not going to aid in this investigation. "Perhaps if we were able to find a way to trace them somehow..."

[constantprisoner]

Sirius glances at the box and grimaces slightly. There's probably still a few things lingering around that he might be able to pick up, but the idea of smelling a severed head to get a scent was just not a pleasant one.

"That's a good place to start, yeah," he says, before sighing. "I might be able to trace something."

[reticence]

Faolan glances at the box then back at Sirius dubiously. "Trace?" he asks, because it has to be done. Especially with the way that the other man has responded, whatever he has in mind, he doesn't seem to be excited about doing it. Not that he supposes anyone would be excited dealing with some poor woman's decapitated head, but this is different. So it seems, anyway.

And One Non-Hillingdon

[knightscode]

Lancelot doesn't actually want to look at the head, truth be told, but he's seen plenty of gruesome things in this time and he can stomach it. Give his opinion on it. Tell Faolan if he can pick up anything off it, if he can help with any leads, etc.

Which means that Lancelot is turning up at Hillingdon dressed in his best attempt at plain-clothes and blending in, leather jacket and worn out jeans matches to a plain grey v-neck as he slinks through and hopes nobody recognises him and objects.

Part of him wishes he had some sort of hood to put up, but another part of him points out he isn't a teenager trying to steal something.

He makes it up to where Faolan is and knocks on the door softly before letting himself in, lofting an eyebrow questioningly and closing the door behind himself with a quiet click.

"I don't think anyone recognised me, or if they did they were too polite to say anything."

[reticence]

Faolan glances up at the other man as he lets himself in, craning as if to see if there is anyone following or attempting to spy on them before Lancelot shuts the door behind himself, before he rises and crosses around his desk.

"I'm not sure if polite would be the right way to describe that lot," Faolan says, "but they know how to mind their own business when they need to." That and it's not as if anyone's guarding any of the doors. Maybe he should think on that, although they're not under any sort of security threat. Not at the moment, anyway.

He moves to lean back against the edge of his desk, the corners of his lips quirking up despite himself as he motions around his office. "Welcome to Hillingdon House," he says. He doesn't think that Lancelot's been there before, has he? He'd made it a point to meet off-site during the last case. He's not exactly keen on lugging about a head in a box for an off-site meeting, though. They'll just have to take this risk.

[knightscode]

"Thank you. It's nice! Surprisingly homey."

He loosens off his jacket, shoves his hands into his pockets as he paces in a little further. Lancelot hadn't really known what to expect, in truth. Hillingdon are something of a wild card, not united in one cause like the other factions. What would the meeting place of a group of hunters who work for the highest bidder look like? Apparently really quite nice, if perhaps a little tired in places and in need of a touch up.

"Is it here, then? Your... evidence, I suppose."

For some reason he feels reluctant to say 'head', something he can't quite define. As if somehow not giving voice to what it is might make it less awful.

[reticence]

Ah. Faolan nods slightly at the question. "It is," he confirms, gesturing to just behind his desk. "I wasn't sure that there was anywhere else to keep it, really. It's not exactly something you can just leave lying about..." Despite the fact that whoever had sent it had done so by so mundane a service as the post.

He glances at Lancelot, trying to get a feel for the other man and his comfort levels. Everything from how comfortable he is about the idea of a decapitated head in the first place to how comfortable he is being here in general, in Hillingdon House. "I'd offer you coffee or something, if you wanted. We've got a kitchen downstairs. I'm not really sure if it's exactly the time for refreshments, though." Maybe he can take him out for lunch after this, as a thank you for trying. Now there's an idea, he thinks to himself.

[knightscode]

"Wait until after, I might need something strong. Let's see it, then. I can tell you if I recognise them or sense anything."

Easier to get the whole head bit over and done with, Lancelot thinks, than toe around it cautiously when in truth that might just make him keep thinking about it and tensing himself up in preparation. It might smell awful, or look gruesome, or both for that matter. His imagination is already filling in a little, truth be told.

[reticence]

Faolan nods after a moment. Maybe he'll manage to find the excuse to take him out for drinks later then, depending on how this goes. "We have a name," he admits. "For the victim. According to the fae that brought it in at least. Someone who liked to hang around the fae, Seelie more specifically. But really anything you might be able to give us -- any direction to take is better than none..."

He stands up straight, moving to step around his desk before fetching the box itself and setting it on one of the tables he had set aside in the room that he sometimes liked to eat at or do paperwork on. It would be helpful, so they weren't crouching around the thing on the floor. He's going to need to disinfect it before he feels like eating there again, though. "This is it," he says, glancing over at the other man dubiously.

[knightscode]

His eyes widen a little and Lancelot studies the box a second warily, takes a half step closer.

"What was the name, then?" he prompts, feeling a little like he's paling already as he reaches out and nervously flips open the flaps. He can definitely feel... something off the head. Fae magic, he thinks, even as he tries to somehow perform the feat of looking at it without actually looking. Like it's a picture rather than a real head.

[reticence]

"Mushira Ahmad," Faolan repeats, watching Lancelot carefully as he steps closer to him and the box and begins poking his way into it. "Human, according to our fae benefactor claims he knew her to be. Who might have done this to her, why they chose her, why they sent her to him..." Faolan shrugs slightly. "That's what we're hoping to find out."

He watches Lancelot's face, sensing his hesitance, his uncertainty around the box. And yes, watching his face pale as he nervously pokes his way into it. He thinks about suggesting that he doesn't need to help after all, not if he doesn't want to, but then they do need all the help they can get. He'll be there though. In case it's too much for the other man. He hopes that will count for something, at least.