undergrounds | Every single holiday, a head in a box

Faolan frowns at the idea of it. No, his friendship with a Guardian isn't necessarily going to be seen as a positive thing. Not when the opinion of the Night Council is so otherwise lacking. But the way that Lancelot looks, in response to the idea that Faolan might want to squirrel him away because he's ashamed of him.

"To hell with them," Faolan replies. "You're here as my guest, as my friend. I am allowed to have friends, aren't I?" he asks, perhaps a little more defensively than he should. It isn't Lancelot he'll need to argue the point across to, after all.

He lets out a low breath and steps forward closer to the other man. "You're here to help. Anyone who has a problem with that bring it to me. This isn't about the Night Council, or Daybreak, or whatever other affiliations you may or may not have. It's about your support of Hillingdon." A beat, before he feels compelled to ask, because he's honestly never sure that they've ever spoken about it before. An awkward thought, considering he's their leader, and all. "You... Do support Hillingdon, don't you?" Even just vaguely? Peripherally?

Support them? It's an odd sort of question, because in all honesty Hillingdon don't have any particularly defined belief sets to support. Does he support, in general, a gang of hunters doing their thing? He supposes do, or at least, he doesn't not support them?

"Well, I support you," he offers, "and I suppose if you can keep this rabble from breaking the law or trying to kill me I generally support them."

He offers a small, slightly hesitant smile before adding.

"Especially if that means I'm allowed a drink?"

Faolan flickers him a smile in return, gently rubbing his hand against the other man's back without even realizing he's doing it, in an attempt to soothe whatever might have just happened between them there. "Of course you are," he says. "Wherever you'd like one. Here. Out."

He pauses, shrugging, before throwing out, "Hell. My place even, if you want." He's certainly got enough of a selection at home, after all. Certainly more than Lancelot himself, at least. And the selection at Hillingdon House, for that matter. Although he's not exactly sure why he's just invited the other man over. Or potentially done so. It's not as though it's anywhere to boast about. Still, if that's what Lancelot wants... He'll certainly do his best.

"Here is fine," he says, without even a second thought. "I'd really like to sit down, so, wherever is closest."

His head is still spinning a little, truth be told, and he'd prefer to sit down sooner rather than later just in case it all gets worse and he loses his footing. He's not entirely sure he wants to suffer the indignity of Faolan propping him up or worse carrying him through Hillingdon House. The slight pinch to his expression as he forces a smile is probably enough to hint that now, please, is the preferred time for this to happen.

Faolan nods in response to the immediate answer and realizes that yeah, perhaps the request for the drink isn't only because Lancelot's been grossed out by the head. He suddenly remembers back to the last time that Lancelot had demonstrated any sort of involuntary telekinetic response like that, which had happened to occur right before the other man was nearly ill and then almost had passed out. Yeah, maybe it's a better idea to get him sitting down sooner rather than later. He'd already made that mistake the once.

"Sure," he says. "There's a room. This way." He steps forward in an attempt to guide the other man along with him, suddenly much more aware of his hand on his back. And equally intent on keeping it there. At least until he was given reason to believe it unnecessary.

Lancelot follows along easily, only glancing back at the room once as he belatedly realises he might have done some damage.

"I didn't break anything, did I?" he prompts, slightly awkward in the question. Hopefully if he did it's replaceable, and not too expensive. As soon as they seem to be in the right room Lancelot sinks into a chair with a heavy sigh, touching a hand to his forehead. He's a little hot, but he doesn't think he's about to throw up this time. Not yet anyway. That's one thing, at least.

Faolan shrugs slightly, brushing the back of his hand against the back of the other man's forehead himself as Lancelot does. "I don't know," he says, honestly. He a little hot yes, and Faolan can feel the heat of his magic pouring off of him as well. He finds himself somewhat distracted for the moment, and thus answering a little more bluntly than he might otherwise do. "I wasn't really paying attention to what happened to it all. Don't worry about it. There wasn't anything valuable in there even if you did. I'll get it all cleaned up later."

He steps back, watching the other man for a moment. Trying to gauge how he's doing. Certainly worse than he'd thought at first. He'd seemed shaken of course, but not... Well. Obviously Faolan needed to be more observant. And come to understand that when Lancelot actually asked for something for himself, such as a drink, or to be able to sit down, that generally the situation was actually more concerning than he's probably letting on.

"Water?" he asks. "Or something stronger?"

He hesitates at that, because he wants to say something stronger but equally he doesn't -- Lancelot doesn't drink a lot as a rule and he doesn't want to worry Faolan.

"Water should be fine," he says finally, and flicks a wan sort of smile. "Just -- give me a moment and I'll try and describe it to you, although I'm not so sure how much it will help. It's all a little imprecise."

Faolan's lips twist in response to the other man's words, although the look on his face may not quite be defined as a smile, as he moves to step back towards the door. "Don't worry about it," he says. "Anything's better than nothing. Sit tight."

And he ducks out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen to be able to fetch the other man a glass. And to spend the time kicking himself in private as he does. A drink, he'd said. Water. Because he's feeling shaky. Not alcohol to steel his nerves as he'd thought. And Faolan had offered to take him out. Back to his? Who the hell was he kidding.

He splashes some water on his face too while he's at it before heading back up the stairs, glass of water in hand. "Here," he says, handing it to the other man, before sinking down into another chair in the room. He's tired. Tired of this mess, tired of messing up, tired in general. "Take your time," he reassures the other man. "I've got nowhere else to be."

Lancelot takes the water and sips it slowly, lets out a heavy sigh as he tries to steady himself.

"Well, that's never happened before." He says finally. "Or, well, the floating bit has -- forgive me that -- just... not the rest. Normally when I... feel magic it is more a sense of the type. This... was as if perhaps I sensed -- the person? As if some of themselves bled into it, I suppose. Although if it was... your victim or whoever did that to them I cannot be sure."

"Sensed the person?" Faolan asks, sitting back in his own seat and watching the other man struggle to gather and explain himself. "In what way do you mean?" Physically? Perhaps he had some idea of how to identify them that way? Or was it a purely emotional connection? He had certainly seemed to have an emotional response to it at any rate. Although whether it was because he was experiencing something new and frightening as far as his abilities were concerned or something beyond that it was hard to tell from Faolan's perspective.

"I felt... angry? Some sort of anger. No, actually, it wasn't... just anger exactly. It was -- violent. The desire to hurt someone. But there was also... a trapped sort of feeling? Forgive me, I must sound insane, but that is what it was. I am not sure how else to describe it, just -- that it felt hard to move."

He gives Faolan a wincing, apologetic sort of smile and takes another sip of water.

Then, after a moment, he hesitates.

"I... could take a look again, if you want me to."

Faolan has sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands as he listens to the other man talk. Trying to make out what it all means. What it all could mean. Busy thinking hard enough that he doesn't know how to react to such a suggestion at first. He raises his eyebrows, blinking for a moment and wondering what could have led the other man to suggest doing such a thing again.

"Well," he says, after a moment. "No one's forcing you. If you think it would help is one matter. But you don't have anything to prove to me. I believe you." He raises his eyebrows again and sits back in his chair. "It does sound rather mad, to be true, but that isn't to say that you didn't experience what you say. So unless you really want...?" He shrugs slightly.

Edited 2016-04-12 03:17 (UTC)

Lancelot screws up his face a little in a way that suggests no, given the choice he wouldn't really want to.

"I only wonder if I might pick up something else," he says finally, "or understand it better a second time when it is not so surprising."

Faolan regards him quietly for a long moment. Part of him doesn't really think that the other man will get that much more out of it, although perhaps he will be able to understand it more when it is less of a surprise. Most of him doesn't believe that trying again so soon is a very good idea, though. But if Lancelot insists... He'd better not regret letting him do it, if he does go through with it, that's all that Faolan can think.

"...if you think it will help clear things up," he says, after a long pause. "But no one is forcing you into it, alright? Least of all me."

"I'd feel badly if I didn't try and you ended up not finding who was behind this. If there's any chance I'd rather take it than not."

He lofts an eyebrow slightly, hesitates before dropping his eyes again and sipping the water.

"Although you may want to glue anything breakable down or move it elsewhere, just in case."

Faolan huffs something of a laugh at that. "I'm afraid I'm all out of glue, but I've got drawers in my desk that should do nicely. Unless you've learned how to open them as well?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. Has he? Faolan honestly doesn't know how well Lancelot can control his ability, it's been a while since he's seen the other man use it, really.

He nods to the water. "Take your time. We'll go back when you're ready. I'm certainly in no rush. Unless you'd rather be done with it sooner rather than later." He shrugs slightly. "You said this was the first time you had ever done something like this?" It meant of course that he had no idea of his limitations as far as it was concerned either.

"Yes, although -- forgive me, I am not sure I did anything. Not on purpose, at least. It simply... happened."

Lancelot winces a fraction, drops his eyes.

"I know that does not sound... good, that things happen of their own accord, I will understand if you choose to stand a little further away next time."

Since he's clearly not exactly in control of it.

"Well," Faolan says, with the quirking of a smile, "I've yet to see you levitate anything heavy enough to fear for being levitated myself just yet, so I think I'll take my chances if it's all the same to you."

It might be safer to stand closer to him after all. Like being in the eye of the storm, although he's not sure that he wants to make that sort of a connection to the other man, especially when he's still feeling so self-conscious about the new ability.

"I've given you a good shove, though."

He sips the water again, lets out a heavy sigh and sets aside the glass. Lancelot isn't fully convinced he couldn't do Faolan some damage accidentally, but equally he thinks (hopes?) the likelihood of that happening is low. It's just the possibility being there at all that makes him nervous. He was just beginning to get used to floating things, after all, this other aspect to being able to sense magic -- well, he has no idea how it might change anything else.

Pushing to his feet he shoves back his hair and presses his lips together, nervous but rather determined all the same.

"May as well give it a try," he says finally, if a touch unconvincingly.

Faolan honestly isn't so certain that this is a good idea, but if the other man insists... Well, he probably could stop him, to be honest, but then Lancelot would regret not trying harder. The least he can do is be there for him and make certain that he doesn't hurt himself, or perhaps be there for him in case he hurts himself would be the more accurate way of phrasing things.

"Alright," he says, moving to stand himself and pushing through the door into the hall again. He pauses just as they get to the door of his office, turning to the other man, the look in his eyes perhaps the first sign he's given that he's actually concerned about this going sour. "Just. Be careful, yeah? Of yourself, I mean, not the office. Anything in there that gets damaged, I can just replace." Everything but Lancelot himself.

He gives him a long searching look before he turns and opens the door, leading the other man back inside the mess his office has already become.

"I can't replace you as easily as all that. Nor your evidence, for that matter."

He lofts an eyebrow at that, slips past Faolan into the room and pads slowly over to the box to examine it. What is it he'd done last time? He isn't sure he'd done much of anything but focus, in truth, but some part of him wants there to be a process to such thing. Magic should surely be cast, not just happen without warning.

(Perhaps if you're a witch it's like that, fae magic is a little less precise of course -- unfortunately for Lancelot.)

Faolan doesn't know quite how to respond to that at first. The look and the comment combined. He could care less about the evidence, really -- Lancelot is something of a last hope as far as that's concerned. If they find something they find something and if not he's not going to waste time being upset about it. He's given enough to go on thus far anyway. And he recognizes that Lancelot values him, of course he does, but to hear it said aloud so plainly is another matter entirely.

He slips in quietly behind the other man, taking up a guard what he assumes is far enough away but not too far that he won't be able to get to the other man's side quickly, if it turns out that he needs help. "Take your time," he coaxes Lancelot. "No one's in any rush." The woman the head belongs to -- whose murder they're solving of course -- least of all.

Lancelot nods once, takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he closes the last of the distance. Did he touch the box before? He can't remember, but it seems a logical way to be better in contact with whatever is going on. He hesitantly places some fingers on the outside of it, trying not to focus on the head so much as the general feel of magic. After a second he closes his eyes, trying to better block it out so he can think. Fae magic, there's fae magic on it. Seelie magic. Yet not all of it feels that way and... there it is again.

Something, an angry twisting sort of feeling. Was she angry? Was someone angry at her? Both make sense. He feels a shiver run down his spine as it nags at him, as the anger and panic begin to claw at him. Around him, some of the things already scattered on Faolan's desk begin to twitch again.

Faolan keeps his eyes trained on the other man, at the way his eyes close and his brow furrows as he concentrates. Or perhaps it's because of what he's feeling? It's hard to tell, since he's not really giving anything else away. That is, not until the things on his desk start to vibrate back into life again. Faolan glaces towards the desk itself and wonders whether he really should have hidden anything that might wind up as a sharp projectile in the right scenario, supposing that it's too late now and besides, anything could be a weapon when wielded in the right way.

He doesn't speak up to interrupt Lancelot's concentration, but he does take another step closer towards him -- just in case he needs to grab him and hit the floor very suddenly. One can never be too careful, especially not now that the thought is planted in his mind.

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knightscode - 2016-05-08 18:05 (UTC) - Expand

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