undergrounds | Pieces on a chessboard

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Pieces on a chessboard

1) For Kyle Sutton – Redbright Institute, 17th March
It's St. Patrick's Day and some enterprising student has given Sylvia a shamrock brooch to pin to her blouse. They're also handing out party invitation flyers in the dining hall, though thankfully the party is taking place off-site. She can't condone a night of drinking at the school, after all.

Sylvia takes a look at the flyer on her way out and lifts an amused eyebrow. "Of course, you're still planning to come to school tomorrow."

The student grins back. "Oh, absolutely. One hundred percent."

She's about to reply when another student interrupts them. "Ms Redbright? There's someone here who wants to talk to you..."

Sylvia hands back the flyer with an apologetic smile. "Excuse me." Her smile becomes a frown as she turns around to see who wants to speak to her. She doesn't recognize him, but he might be a new student. "Do we have an appointment?"

2) For Abigail Widdowson – Redbright Institute, 18th March
Abigail Widdowson has been a thorn in Sylvia's side ever since the girl emerged from that derelict mansion of hers and declared herself the leader of a new Midnight coven, but she never thought it would come to this. A Midnight witch, the Maiden representing all witches. Oh, they've tried to discredit her. To search for a loophole, some excuse to deny Abigail's claim and begin the search for a new Maiden all over again. Thus far, they haven't succeeded, and Sylvia knows when to give up. If she can't oust the girl, she'll have to bring her into the fold instead.

So she invites her to afternoon tea. It takes place on the outdoor pavilion in the school grounds, with an unobtrusive spell surrounding them to keep out the wind and maintain the temperature. A couple of young witches serve them tea, finger sandwiches, cakes and scones. Sylvia dismisses them with a brief thank you, leaving the two of them alone.

She rearranges the cushions on her wicker chair before giving Abigail a warm smile. "So how are you feeling about it all? You must be rather overwhelmed."

She's being friendly, for now. As the Mother of Witches, Abigail is in some sense her protégé.

3) For Eames, Finnick and Illya – Redbright Institute, 23rd March
It isn't often that one is asked to meet with a lord of both the Seelie and Unseelie Court, even for the President of the Night Council. Sylvia has to wonder, after their failure in Lambeth and the vampire attack in Bromley, whether the fae are ready to wave a metaphorical white flag and withdraw from the human world altogether.

Of course, that's probably too much to hope for.

They must want something. The fae always do, even if they pretend to offer a gift or favour. She will hear them out today, even if she dislikes striking bargains with fae, because if there's a chance to ensure that they don't disrupt the upcoming election, she ought to take it. The evidence so far is that crushing the fae has proven near impossible. Making some sort of peace could be the next best option.

She meets them in her office at the Redbright Institute rather than the Night Council headquarters, because fae are barred from entering Night Council territory. The school on the other hand welcomes all supernatural types and so should appear more welcoming. It isn't really, of course, because this is still Sylvia's domain and she makes sure that her visitors know it.

There's a salt circle around her desk. It has been spelled to keep out anything originating from the Other Realm, so her visitors will not be able to cross it. They can enter the office, but they can't reach her. As a further deterrent, Sylvia is wearing a silver locket around her neck. And finally, standing quietly in one corner, out of the circle, is Illya Kuryakin, werewolf, Guardian and today Sylvia's personal bodyguard. Tonight is a full moon, which means he's at his peak strength. She has no doubt that he'll use it if necessary.

Sylvia stands up behind her desk when her visitors are shown in. She offers a smile. "You must be the fae. Please, come in."

Trust nothing when it comes to the fae, she knows that. Something Sylvia will bear in mind for the entirety of this meeting.

4) For Faolan – Night Council HQ, 24th March
It would be fair to say that Sylvia isn't happy when she learns of Faolan's involvement in the Bromley dispute. Not only did he choose to ally with the fae, he also encouraged other members of Hillingdon to do the same. Why, she can't fathom. Perhaps the hunters among them hate vampires so much that they see fae as the lesser of two evils, but Sylvia can't agree with that. More importantly, his actions raise questions about his loyalty to the Night Council, and to her. There's an election coming up. The last thing Sylvia wants is to have anyone questioning her or the loyalty of her Guardians.

So she calls him into her office, early in the morning when there are fewer people around to notice that he's there. When he enters, she taps her pen against her fingers, regarding him for a second or two before speaking.

"Good morning, Faolan. I appreciate you coming here at short notice. There's something important that I'd like to discuss." There's a pause, then she launches right into what she wants to say: "What were you doing in Bromley?"

She makes it sound like she's merely curious, but the intensity of her gaze says otherwise.

5) For Lancelot – Night Council HQ, 29th March
By the end of March, the fae will be free to pass through Night Council territories. Sylvia is staring at a document that will authorize this. It's one page, printed on their best paper, and carries a faint scent of magic. She sighs and puts down the paper for a moment, rubbing her eyes.

There's a knock on the door and she calls her visitor in. "Lancelot, thank you for coming. I trust the fae will no longer be bothering us in Lambeth?"

Perching on her desk, she offers Lancelot a smile. At least here is a Guardian she can trust.

[ooc: Would you like a thread with Sylvia? Plot with me here!]

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Fae and their deals. The smile remains switched on, frozen. She will have to choose every word even more carefully from now on. Promise nothing.

"I don't make deals with fae."

Not least because they're often magically binding.

Of course she doesn't. They never make deals until they do. Eames laughs and shakes his head, looking to his side at Finnick with his eyebrows raised. Totally disbelieving, "of course not."

He takes a thoughtful pause and starts like he's suddenly had a great idea, "fancy kicking up a bit of a ruckus in Lambeth next month, Finnick? Maybe rattle a few coffins in Lewisham?" It's obvious what he's doing, intentionally so, but the act is still important. When he looks back to Sylvia, it's mostly an afterthought. Like checking he hasn't double-booked himself, "oh. That won't interfere with your campaign strategy at all, will it?"

Finnick huffs a laugh and nods, raising an eyebrow as he rolls the idea around in his head. "It would be quite distracting, wouldn't it?" he says, tilting his head in faux-sympathy at Sylvia. "But it seems as if we don't have much choice, if there's no room for negotiation."

God, they're smug. They seem to think they've hit upon the one threat that will persuade her to give in to their demands. The problem is, they're not wrong. Sylvia would like nothing more than to set Illya on them and wipe the smile from both their faces, but she refrains.

Instead, she takes a breath, keeping her expression and tone as measured as possible. "Do you think I care about my campaign strategy when you threaten innocent people? My campaign strategy would benefit from another fae attack. Perhaps this is an alien concept to you, but people value security. When they're afraid, they vote for who they know. And if you are the cause of that fear, they will support striking you down." She shakes her head. "Neither of us want that. Why don't you tell me exactly what you do want from me, and I'll see whether I can help."

Edited 2016-03-24 21:12 (UTC)

Eames snorts, it'd be kind of interesting to see which way it goes for her if they did stir up a ruckus. She could build a campaign on dealing with the fae threat, but she's had her seat for so long; how could such a threat even come about on her watch.

But he won't push the topic, it's enough that Sylvia knows they're willing to make her life significantly more difficult than it already is. Eames shrugs a shoulder, glancing to his side at Finnick before he speaks.

"We simply want to be allowed to move freely, as we always have."

Finnick's expression is a little more sober now, seeing their deal on the brink of falling apart. Maybe they've pushed too hard or been too cocky, and maybe she has a point. He knows they could certainly make a fuss about her incompetence in keeping the fae threat at bay, but that would be a hail mary that they don't want to have to play.

"It seems like a small request to me, especially if it really was for our own good as you say," he says evenly. "We're even willing to stay quiet until the election is over."

She shakes her head. "Even if I wanted to, the other Council members would never allow it. Daybreak witches would never allow it. There would be protests in the street. I can't undo these spells without the backing of my covens." She pauses, thinking. "If we shifted one or two of the Daybreak territories into Redbright protection, then we would lift the barrier spells in those territories. I could make a case for that, but it won't work if your people continue to cause trouble, election or no election."

The fact is that it isn't a small request. It's a seismic shift in how the witches protect themselves; it would be like stripping away the roof of a house, leaving the people inside exposed to the elements.

So if they want their freedom, the fae have to earn it. Start with one territory. If they behave themselves, then she can make the argument to convert another.

They're running headlong into a circular argument here, and neither party is going to be the one to budge first. It's both or neither, Eames can tell just as he's sure she must be able to, and he sighs with an expression that could be read as somewhat apologetic, if not for what a total ass he's been so far.

"We can be extremely quiet under the right circumstances, but no fae is going to play nice for land in your name."

Finnick tilts his head at Sylvia, deciding it's time to get to the point. They have to start setting down terms, and it's time to propose theirs. "The Night Council territories are meant to be neutral," he says. "Are they truly neutral if we're not allowed to walk freely in them?"

The Night Council territories. She goes quiet for a moment, glancing back at Illya. That's where they want access? The heart of the city, including the Night Council headquarters and every other major government building in London. She can only imagine the mischief the fae could get up to if they were allowed to move back and forth as they pleased.

Even so. Politically, she can still claim that the Daybreak territories are safe. She can keep the fae quiet until after the election, and if they prove troublesome she can ban them again, as long as she's careful about what she offers them today.

"If they were truly neutral, how quiet would you be?"

"I'm sure we could keep a lid on any antics for a few months at least." Eames cants his head, watching Sylvia's face closely to see how this is going over, "no attempts to expand, et cetera."

Illya keeps himself very still and very quiet. For all they have pretty words on both sides, neither one worries him. They all want different things, and they're petty enough to harp on details like this. But it still matters.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he takes it out.

"Another guardian," he says to explain why he's checking it. Then... "The boy on the news, ma'am, was taken by a fae. It was just confirmed."

They're finally starting to get somewhere. Sylvia nods at Eames' response, beginning to seriously consider the prospect and how difficult it would be to get through the Council.

Then Illya interrupts them. Startled, she turns to him. The boy on the news... She remembers that story, it happened in Lambeth immediately after the fae attack which was suspicious in itself, but not enough to prove anything. But of course it was a fae. They're vicious, amoral, lying tricksters, every last one of them.

The look on her face when she turns back to Eames and Finnick is, needless to say, furious. She takes a step forward, just shy of the edge of the salt circle, and her eyes flash with anger.

"Keep a lid on your antics, you say. So, were you planning to tell me about this particular antic before or after you got your way?"

"That would be a great question if I had any earthly idea what you're talking about." Humans are always losing their children, even without supernatural intervention it's like they can't figure out how to keep an eye on the damn things. He can't be expected to pay attention to every missing child on the news, that's ludicrous. Why not expect him to remember every mugging in Peckham while they're at it?

Eames shakes his head and looks questioningly at Finnick. This... Cannot look good for them right now.

Edited 2016-03-25 02:04 (UTC)

Finnick shares a look with Eames, frowning in confusion.

"You'll have to excuse us - we've been very busy with Islington, and trying to make sure Bromley is stable following their attack on us."

He doesn't like being caught of guard, but part of him thinks it might be better that they look confused.

They don't know. After all this, after promising to make a deal and keep quiet, they don't even know what their own people have been up to. She laughs, shaking her head. Does she care about the trouble that Islington have been causing them? No, not remotely. Sylvia is quite happy to let the vampires distract the fae, if that means keeping them away from her own people.

But even with the vampires snapping at their heels, they still manage to cause trouble in a borough they're forbidden to enter.

Her expression is cold. "So you don't even know what's going on in your own Courts. Well, allow me to fill you in. On Sunday your people staged yet another attack on mine. It happened in Lambeth, a hit and run. Shops broken into, multiple thefts, chaos. We put a stop to it. But now I learn that jewellery wasn't the only thing stolen that day. You took a child. And you wonder why my witches are in favour of keeping you out. I want the child safely returned to his mother. You get that done immediately after our conversation today, or you can forget any negotiations."

That is non-negotiable.

Eames clenches his jaw in a brief moment of anger, in every direction. He has worked his ass off to get this far, and now some idiot fae is threatening to undo all of that. All the time he spent appeasing both courts, gaining enough of their confidence to do what needs to be done while constantly trying to hold on to what little traction they had in the mortal realm. Perhaps if they weren't busy defending themselves from the vampires she let on her Council, they wouldn't be in this situation.

'You took a child,' she says. As if all fae are a monolith. Part of him wishes that were true - there would be no need to negotiate with this witch if it were. They could simply take what they want.

"There are rogue elements in every group. Something I'm sure you can understand," Eames says, smoothing down his shirt in a calming gesture. After all, weren't the witches who sent a head to his home aligned with Daybreak? "Consider it taken care of."

Finnick's blood boils and his expression tightens, his smile fading all together. He heard about Lambeth of course, and he knew it might come up in this meeting, but to jeopardize everything they've worked for... Finnick draws up to his full height with a deep breath, staring evenly at Sylvia and putting on a thin smile.

"I'll speak to my Court right away," he says. "We will have the child returned as part of the deal."

Well, that was quick. The fact that they agree straight away does mollify her a little, though she reminds herself that this whole incident should be a lesson that fae can't be trusted. But she's started now and she can't let a mother lose her child because of her reluctance to make a deal, so... here it is.

She nods. "Very well." She walks around to take a seat at her desk, giving herself a few seconds to calm down and consider her next words carefully. Then she twirls a pen between her fingers, looking up to address them. "When and only when you have safely returned the child to her mother, I will speak to the rest of the Council and propose that we lift the ban on allowing fae to pass through Night Council territory. For reasons of security, I would like to retain the barrier around the Night Council headquarters. I'm sure you understand. If I succeed, you promise that no fae shall interfere with the upcoming election and there will be no attacks on my people, at least until the election has passed. After that... I can make no promises regarding the law remaining in place, but if I am still in power and your people prove themselves to be peaceful, perhaps we can talk again. Do you agree?"

Despite her own ban on summoning fae, Sylvia has been taught how to deal with them. A single misplaced word can get a witch into all sorts of trouble. She can only hope that she hasn't missed anything.

Well that sounds reasonable, and as good as they're going to get at this juncture. Whoever this fae is should consider themselves lucky they didn't blow up this deal.

"Sounds good," Eames nods, "unless Finnick has any reservations, I believe we're agreed."

Finnick nods his head in acquiescence. "We are agreed," he says, to make it official. It's not as if he thinks he can risk amendments to it anyway, and she has the basics of what they were willing to agree on when they walked in. He's still angry, already planning the litany of curses he's going to utter when he goes back to the Seelie Court to arrange for the child to be returned, but it doesn't show on his face.

She lets out a breath she'd been unconsciously holding. So they're agreed. Deal done. Whether or not she can rely on them to keep it is another matter, but if this works out at least she won't have to worry about fae sabotaging the election.

"Good," she says, standing up. "Thank you, gentlemen. If one of you would like to pass on your contact details to my associate here, I'll be in touch."

She nods over at Illya. He can take a phone number or however else they'd like to be contacted, so she can let them know the results of her conversation with the Night Council. And she will of course be keeping a sharp eye out for the return of the missing child in Lambeth.

Oh good, it's over. Eames smiles and takes out a business card with his number on to hand over to the guard dog on his way out. This is one step closer to getting back their footing in this realm, and once this child situation is dealt with he can relax for a day or two.

"Thank you for your time," he says, giving Sylvia another nod before he turns to leave.

"Yes, I hope we can all benefit from this arrangement," Finnick adds, glancing at the business card Eames pulls out. He doesn't have anything readily available, so he decides to leave it with Eames. It's not as if the other fae can't find him easily enough if she contacts him, so he turns to leave as well, eager to get this situation with the child addressed so they can move forward.

She nods, watching them leave. It's only after they've both gone that Sylvia slumps back down in her chair and passes her hand over her eyes. Well, it could have been worse. She'll have to console herself with that thought and face the rest of the Night Council later on.

"I need a whiskey."

She doesn't drink much, as a rule, but this occasion calls for it.

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