Faolan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reticence) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-04-15 11:55 am
reticence) wrote in undergrounds2016-04-15 11:55 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN] APRIL CATCH-ALL!
A. TROUBLE AHEAD [CLOSED TO LANCELOT]
Faolan isn't quite sure what to think when he first hears the news. Him? Nominated for a position on the Night Council? It's bad enough that he's somehow found himself Head of Hillingdon and Guardian both, but now this? Should he try for it, now that he's been nominated for it? Does he even want it? He could do a hell of a lot of good on the inside like that, and part of him understands that it's a way to get out of being a Guardian and the dangers involved in walking that line. But a seat on the Council...
He stew on the news on his own for about a day before he can't take it anymore. Locking up his office at Hillingdon House he pulls out his mobile as he heads out the door towards the station, Lancelot's number dialed even before he knows what he's doing. "Hey," he says, as Lancelot answers the phone. "Are you home?"
B. ON THE CAMPAIGN
Faolan doesn't really know whether he wants the position or not. He's got enough on his plate as it is, without complicating matters further with a position on the Night Council. But he has no qualms speaking to people about the idea of it, if they have any thoughts to share on the matter. A candidate from Hillingdon, that's nearly unheard of, considering the faction's less than political slant. Although it's been growing more so, as of late.
He makes sure that he's available to speak at Hillingdon House, and when the idea that he should advocate for himself in the position comes up, he's not quite sure what to do about it. Though it occurs to him that while he may not want the position, it's a good opportunity to spread his ideas about. Carefully. He has to make sure he's not breaking any Council or Guardian rules while he's doing so. But a bit of simple expression of his opinion never hurt anyone. Right?
And so he makes himself available around the Council building, in Night Council Territories, and in Redbright territories as well. Just sitting himself down at a table in a cafe, sometimes grabbing a sandwich but more often than not just a coffee. And being there to talk. About whatever they'd like. His position on his belief in equality for all branches of the supernatural on the Underground, perhaps? Although nothing's stopping anyone from sitting down to chat about anything else. His face has suddenly become a lot more well-known, for better or worse, and Faolan's going to do his best to make use of that while he can.
C. LIES AND SLANDER
He should have known it was only a matter of time before someone started slinging his name through the mud. And he should have known that it would be Gilbert Norrell doing the mudslinging. What with the position he'd taken against him in the latest territory dispute and his own personal stance on the matter of equality for all. Including the fae, a hot button item as far as Norrell is concerned.
The flier he's just been handed by some unknowing volunteer is much the same as any other political flier might be. No doubt the poor kid didn't even know who he'd been handing it to. But it's what it says that has Faolan growling at anyone who dares look at him as he makes his way down the street. There sports on the front of it a large photograph, caught at some function or another, god knows who took it or where, of Faolan standing guard behind the Council Members, Sylvia Redbright and Gilbert Norrell featured prominently in the foreground but it's clearly Faolan in the photograph. Below it reads:
FAOLAN O'NEILL: DISOBEYED HIS SUPERIORS TO SUPPORT THE FAE. WOULD YOU GIVE A GUARDIAN LIKE THAT MORE POWER???
He'd been so careful. He'd jumped through hoops to keep his position with the Night Council a secret. But the story is out now. God knows how many other fliers have been printed up. God knows what other things they say about him. By the time he reaches Hillingdon House he's in the blackest of moods, shutting himself in his office and hiding away from the world as best he can. But he can't hide forever. People at Hillingdon will be able to find him. And people out and about now too for that matter...
D. GOING SHOPPING
He needs something to take his mind off of all of this political business, and the one thing he can think of is the fact that he knows that Lancelot's birthday is coming up. At least, he's fairly certain that it's coming up. He's got a pretty good handle that it's in May at least, although the exact date he's a bit hazy on. The 5th stands out most prominently in his mind, but he'll need confirmation on that for certain before he starts making any plans. But he'll need to make plans. And he'll need to get the other man something. Something good. Something to make up for this mess that he's put him through, time and time again. Better than a bottle of wine, or a dog toy. Certainly better than the Monkey's Paw, what with that and the decapitated head he's sure Lancelot's had enough of dismembered body parts in boxes for a while yet.
He finds himself standing staring into the window of a pet shop one afternoon, wondering if maybe the secret to the other man's heart really is through his furry friend, and how lame a gift it would be to repeat a gift he's already done, knowing at least that it would be appreciated. But Lancelot had bought him a coffee machine. No, he's going to have to do much better than that.
E. WILDCARD
What it says on the tin! Want to do something that I haven't written a prompt for! Either run it by me first if you like or just GO FOR IT!! c:
Faolan isn't quite sure what to think when he first hears the news. Him? Nominated for a position on the Night Council? It's bad enough that he's somehow found himself Head of Hillingdon and Guardian both, but now this? Should he try for it, now that he's been nominated for it? Does he even want it? He could do a hell of a lot of good on the inside like that, and part of him understands that it's a way to get out of being a Guardian and the dangers involved in walking that line. But a seat on the Council...
He stew on the news on his own for about a day before he can't take it anymore. Locking up his office at Hillingdon House he pulls out his mobile as he heads out the door towards the station, Lancelot's number dialed even before he knows what he's doing. "Hey," he says, as Lancelot answers the phone. "Are you home?"
B. ON THE CAMPAIGN
Faolan doesn't really know whether he wants the position or not. He's got enough on his plate as it is, without complicating matters further with a position on the Night Council. But he has no qualms speaking to people about the idea of it, if they have any thoughts to share on the matter. A candidate from Hillingdon, that's nearly unheard of, considering the faction's less than political slant. Although it's been growing more so, as of late.
He makes sure that he's available to speak at Hillingdon House, and when the idea that he should advocate for himself in the position comes up, he's not quite sure what to do about it. Though it occurs to him that while he may not want the position, it's a good opportunity to spread his ideas about. Carefully. He has to make sure he's not breaking any Council or Guardian rules while he's doing so. But a bit of simple expression of his opinion never hurt anyone. Right?
And so he makes himself available around the Council building, in Night Council Territories, and in Redbright territories as well. Just sitting himself down at a table in a cafe, sometimes grabbing a sandwich but more often than not just a coffee. And being there to talk. About whatever they'd like. His position on his belief in equality for all branches of the supernatural on the Underground, perhaps? Although nothing's stopping anyone from sitting down to chat about anything else. His face has suddenly become a lot more well-known, for better or worse, and Faolan's going to do his best to make use of that while he can.
C. LIES AND SLANDER
He should have known it was only a matter of time before someone started slinging his name through the mud. And he should have known that it would be Gilbert Norrell doing the mudslinging. What with the position he'd taken against him in the latest territory dispute and his own personal stance on the matter of equality for all. Including the fae, a hot button item as far as Norrell is concerned.
The flier he's just been handed by some unknowing volunteer is much the same as any other political flier might be. No doubt the poor kid didn't even know who he'd been handing it to. But it's what it says that has Faolan growling at anyone who dares look at him as he makes his way down the street. There sports on the front of it a large photograph, caught at some function or another, god knows who took it or where, of Faolan standing guard behind the Council Members, Sylvia Redbright and Gilbert Norrell featured prominently in the foreground but it's clearly Faolan in the photograph. Below it reads:
He'd been so careful. He'd jumped through hoops to keep his position with the Night Council a secret. But the story is out now. God knows how many other fliers have been printed up. God knows what other things they say about him. By the time he reaches Hillingdon House he's in the blackest of moods, shutting himself in his office and hiding away from the world as best he can. But he can't hide forever. People at Hillingdon will be able to find him. And people out and about now too for that matter...
D. GOING SHOPPING
He needs something to take his mind off of all of this political business, and the one thing he can think of is the fact that he knows that Lancelot's birthday is coming up. At least, he's fairly certain that it's coming up. He's got a pretty good handle that it's in May at least, although the exact date he's a bit hazy on. The 5th stands out most prominently in his mind, but he'll need confirmation on that for certain before he starts making any plans. But he'll need to make plans. And he'll need to get the other man something. Something good. Something to make up for this mess that he's put him through, time and time again. Better than a bottle of wine, or a dog toy. Certainly better than the Monkey's Paw, what with that and the decapitated head he's sure Lancelot's had enough of dismembered body parts in boxes for a while yet.
He finds himself standing staring into the window of a pet shop one afternoon, wondering if maybe the secret to the other man's heart really is through his furry friend, and how lame a gift it would be to repeat a gift he's already done, knowing at least that it would be appreciated. But Lancelot had bought him a coffee machine. No, he's going to have to do much better than that.
E. WILDCARD
What it says on the tin! Want to do something that I haven't written a prompt for! Either run it by me first if you like or just GO FOR IT!! c:
no subject
"Press the plug in for me? Just keep her steady and calm. It takes a lot of water to get her fur to actually stay wet, so she'll start splashing around and fussing. Make sure her ears properly get clean, and try and keep the shampoo out of her eyes once we get it on her."
Lily's ears droop a little as Lancelot starts ruffling her to try and get the water through her fur and she gives Faolan a plaintive look. Faolan, help her!
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He reaches forward, scratching his fingers through her fur and trying to ease her worry. "Poor Lily," he says, gently. "Going on an adventure in the mud, and this is the return you get? Shh," he hushes as she starts to squirm slightly. "Be a good girl, that's it."
He glances up at Lancelot, only just then realizing that he's talking to the other man's dog in front of him and coloring slightly for it. "Is there a better way to be doing this?" he asks. As it is, he's kind of awkwardly hovering over the edge of the bath, and probably won't be much help from this angle when the real squirming starts.
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But that would, inevitably, open him up to more wet dog invading his space and getting his clothes wet. Lancelot doesn't mind, of course, but Lancelot also has a whole wardrobe full of clothes to change into should he get wet.
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"Keep a hold on her for a moment," he says, giving her one more ruffle before pulling back and tugging off his socks, setting them aside and reaching down to roll up the legs of his trousers as best he can. They'll only go so far, but it's good enough. Lancelot's not going to be filling the tub that far. Moving back to the edge of the tub, he swings a leg over and moves to perch on the edge, before reaching for Lily again.
"You knock me in with her and I'm taking you with me," is about the only comment he throws Lancelot on the matter.
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"Don't worry, neither of us will be escaping this dry."
Lily noses closer now Faolan is more accessible, giving him another plaintive look while Lancelot goes back to trying to wet down her hind quarters.
"Easy, girl," he murmurs, and smooths her flanks a little as he tries to persuade the fur to soak through.
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Of course, in the meanwhile that means that he's just sitting back, soothing the dog, with their conversation painfully open to everything that he didn't really want to address that had just happened. "Lancelot..." he starts, but suddenly finds himself at a loss for words. What does he even say? Does Lancelot even know about the nomination?
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He glances sideways at Faolan, finger combing through fur as he runs the water along her no-longer-wagging tail. She steps closer to Faolan, pushing at him with her nuzzle as if to find a way past him.
"You wanted to talk?" Lancelot prompts, guessing he might be trying to broach something. "Now is as good a time as any, this will take a while."
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Still, it takes him a moment or so to gather his thoughts. It's obvious that there's something on his mind, but the trouble is expressing himself on the matter. At last he settles on starting with the simple truth of the matter. "Yeah, I... Did you hear? About the election? The nomination." His nomination.
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He shifts to channel the hose down Lily's legs, trying to get her to lift a paws so he can make sure he washes right down to her skin and between her toes.
"Are you worried about it? I assume you have a plan, since you accepted."
Lancelot, it seems, has a little more faith in Faolan than perhaps he should.
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"I wasn't sure what else to do," he says, honestly, shaking his head. A confession he isn't certain he would have given anyone else but Lancelot, but it's the truth. "Someone must have thought that I was a good choice for the position. I'm not so sure myself..."
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"Well," Lancelot prompts, "what would you do? If you won. What changes would you want to make? You'd represent a wide range of people."
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He shakes his head after a moment. "I am not so much a fool to think that even gaining the position would gain me as much as that. The Night Council is..." He attempts to say it in a way that does not suggest any disrespect. "They are people in positions of power, and I do not imagine that they would enjoy giving those up just to be fair to everyone else."
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"Too broad. If you want to stand you need to make sure what you stand for is clear, and you need to remember who you represent. You don't represent everyone, Faolan, you are a voice for a specific group. A witch representative cares about the interests of witches. A vampire representative about vampires. You stand for meta-humans and shifters. You cannot change the way the Night Council works as a whole, not without a lot of support and planning. That goal is a little too big. You need to start smaller."
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He turns his eyes away. He knows that Lancelot has a point, that whatever he may desire, it's too much. Certainly for one person to accomplish. "But I am no politician. I do not know that I have the patience for their games. And can you imagine Sylvia having to treat me as an equal? Or Norrell, for that matter."
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He thinks a moment, running his fingers through Lily's slowly soaking fur and watching it begin to smooth and flatten.
"I think... you should talk to people. If you don't know how to represent us as a group then you need to ask what people want. Being outside the policies gives a perspective, but... you need to know how they feel to people who aren't outside then. They will be the ones voting for you, after all. Balance and equality are good ideas, but you need to address the smaller practicalities too. You work in Hillingdon, you can probably find a few shapeshifters to question."
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"They're going to find out," he says. "I've tried to keep it a secret about my involvement with the Night Council, but they're going to find out. A lot of them aren't going to be happy about it either."
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Lies layered on lies always come undone in horrific ways. Lancelot moves the shower head to wet Lily a little more, reaching out in front of Lance to try and begin wetting some of her front a little. This is probably going to make you wet too, Faolan. Sorry about that.
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"I won't lie," he says. "I've never lied to them. I just. Haven't told the whole truth." He glances up at Lancelot and then away, knowing that that's hardly any better. "I don't think they're going to like it no matter how they figure out about it."
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Lily pulls away and begins to shake and Lancelot cringes, directing the shower head away from her as he turns his face away and closes his eyes. Some wet dog instincts are inevitable, even if they do mean she's catapulting drops of water everywhere.
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"It might happen that way no matter what my intentions might be," Faolan points out. "They could be printing it all now for all I know. What would I even tell them besides?" It's part of the reason he's kept it a secret for this long as it is. He'd intended to double-cross the Night Council but the Night Council had other ideas, and other protections in place, to make such a thing difficult, and now here he is caught between the two of them really just trying to play it by ear as it is.
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He leans forward and begins soaking Lily's front legs, letting the water pressure clean her right down to her skin. It mists Faolan's legs as it bounces off her, the edges of his rolled-up trousers, and Lancelot smiles wryly up at him.
"You probably would have been better off in shorts," he muses, and Lily tries to back away from the shower head again -- trying to shake her head free of Faolan's hands. Why this! Why the water?
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He makes sure that he's got a firm hold on Lily as he gives Lancelot's response a moment's thought. "They're not going to be happy," he says, "but you're right. I should tell them. As much as I can. They're not going to be happy no matter what I do, at least this way..." At least this way, he should hope to have some hope of winning back their trust.
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He shuffles closer and holds out the shower to Faolan, flicking him a smile then moving to hold Lily once he lets go. She turns to inspect Lancelot, looking distinctly worried and bedraggled now. The bath has filled a couple of inches and her paws are splashing about as she shifts unhappily. He cups handfuls of it to gently wet her a little more.
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"How is she about water on her face?" Faolan asks as he works his way down her front, doing his best to work the water into her fur as he goes. As though he's bathed a dog before. Possibly because he has, although perhaps not quite under the same circumstances. But that's neither here nor there.
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Even if she might give Faolan her saddest, most betrayed doggy eyes for the offence. She shifts her weight between her paws again, sloshing the water in the bath as Lancelot reaches over for doggy shampoo to begin working into fur along her back and tail.
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