[open] bright as the day fresh as the moon and stale as the hay

[iustitiae]

i - @ the supermarket
at your favorite tesco (but probably in city of london or enfield), at any time during the month

[look, everyone's gotta shop for groceries. connor's lists have gotten undeniably weirder in the last few months, offering to pick up things for his witch friends ("friends" - friend, in the singular, that's soeki) while here's there. most of this stuff honestly feels like a joke (candles and sage and he's honestly wondering if they're going for eye of newt and toe of frog next), but connor's a good friend and if he's going to be at tesco anyway he can pick up stuff for his buddy.

along with, you know, the usual - good looking produce, the atlantic, condoms, new lightbulb for the broken fixture, cold cereal, pasta, eggs. if you need help reaching something on a shelf, just want random commentary on your life choices, or happen to recognize connor from somewhere (his tinder account? maybe you already know him? the possibilities are endless) this prompt is for you.]

ii - @ the courthouse
city of london, towards the end of the business day.

Shit --

[this is connor, running through a crowd like an asshole, trying not to bump into anyone (but offering "sorry!" if he does, i mean he's not devoid of manners). he's carrying a briefcase with a brief from his boss/professor in it, one that the deadline is approaching, in about thirty minutes, says a quick look at his watch. according to her it was their fault the brief was running so late and despite the wonderful world of the internet, this particular magistrate believed in hard copies, thank you so they'd drawn straws and connor had lost. "good luck with rush hour foot traffic!" yeah, thanks.

he manages to compose himself enough that when he hands the papers off to the clerk (with five minutes to spare!) he doesn't look like a total wreck. mission thusly accomplished has a minute to take a break, relived that he managed to not screw this up and get in her bad graces.

another day, another crisis, right?]

iii - wildcard
[you probably know how this one works! if you want a specific prompt by me let me know that, too.]

Comments

[crowedthedead]

Your little 'friends' not giving you much trouble lately? I can always work another banishing. It's not permanent, but I'm still working on the exorcism thing. [Trying to track down a certain book, really. It's easier said than done. He hasn't made a whole lot of witch friends in London yet, hasn't joined himself a coven. He takes the plate and fork and uses the closed cover of one of his books as makeshift table space.]

Huh? Oh, whatever you're having is fine. [He's no stranger to alcohol, but getting drunk and doing magic don't mix, especially lately.] I'm not drinking tonight. I've got to be more careful when I've got the magic stuff out.

[iustitiae]

Two extremely exciting waters, then. [it's best for both of them really, even if what's best isn't necessarily the fun decision. he brings over the waters and then flops on the couch with his food.]

They're around, I guess. Doing their ghost-thing. You'd think they'd want to move on to stop being harassed by us, at the very least. [hint hint guys.]

[crowedthedead]

Livin' the life, aren't we? [He takes the water glass and takes a sip, then sets it down on the floor a good distance from the piles of books and papers. Especially his own books. Sorry, Connor.]

Moving on is complicated, I guess. Or maybe there's a reason they won't. I'm still trying to track down a spell to force it. Other than a quick banishing, my hands are tied for the moment - ever since the bloody Night Council made "dark" magic illegal I've been trying to keep my head down. [His tone says everything you need to know about his opinions on the Night Council - it's derisive and sarcastic and irritable.]

[iustitiae]

[soeki's probably not wrong; but you'd think that at least annalise's husband would haunt her, or the guy who actually did it and not connor. he's not entirely sure why he's saddled with these ghosts when this wasn't really his fault. (but he doesn't believe that, especially not with pax, and that's exactly the reason they're haunting him and he knows it; the guilt must be really fucking attractive.)]

Is there anything you can do about the Night Council? I don't know, appeal them or something? Elect a different group?

[he's still not sure on the particulars of these politics; but he'll probably find out soon.]

[crowedthedead]

[You'd think, but who knows what goes through a ghost's head when they die. It's shitty that Connor is stuck with them, but he's determined to help at least as much as he can. Connor was his first friend in London, after all. He's in the middle of a forkful of his dinner when Connor says that, and he snorts, covering his mouth to keep it in.]

Asking me that is like me asking if you can just waltz up to the Prime Minister and ask him to change a law, pretty please. I'm a nobody. And Daybreak has more representation, I'd be an absolute moron to go showing my face as a Circle Midnight witch.

[iustitiae]

Okay, but even with that metaphor you can go to your MP and write angry letters or whatever. At least we pretend that people's voices can be heard.

[he's quiet for a moment, taking a bit while the things. and then:]

Why do they have their knickers in a twist about Midnight anyway?