undergrounds | [Open] Baby's Got Blue Eyes

Who: Elizabeth DeWitt & You
What: Canceling a vacation sucks. It's worse when you're Elizabeth.
When: Late April
Where: Various
Warnings: None so far!

Yes, she probably should have expected that this was how it would pan out. Namely, that it wouldn't pan out at all.

Illya had at least called to say he was going away and that she could go to Paris with somebody else, but halfway through the explanation Elizabeth had just hung up. She'd talked to him about how she felt used, how much it hurt, and here she was again. The provider of wolfsbane, promised a trip to Paris and then... he left before it was safe to go. Convenient, it felt so convenient to her, and typical. When hadn't this happened with her? Did she have any friends, really?

[A - Circle Daybreak]

Work is an obvious distraction. Elizabeth has been feeling her abilities getting stronger as of late, and so she spends almost all of her free time from classes at the Circle studying and working with her mentors there. When she's not reading, she's practicing, and her feelings are once again seeping into her magic. It's like she's in Columbia again, and her tenuous control is, again, slipping.

She's carefully laying frost over the surface of delicate flowers one afternoon, and it looks as though she's doing a passable job until her phone buzzes in her bag. For a moment she imagines it's someone needing another free favor, and her anger spikes. The ice instantly thickens and spikes, and Elizabeth shouts in teeth-clenched frustration. She discards the attempt with the rest of the melting, twisted ice-sculptures with flowers inside, and pulls over another one to start over.

[B - Groceries]

Usually Elizabeth likes cooking, and her weekly haul consists mostly of vegetables and meat and rice or pasta to make something healthy and delicious for the week. Cooking sounds like too much effort now. Apparently this week, she's going to be consuming frozen pizza, two bags of chips, garlic bread, ice cream, canned soup, and a large package of beef jerky. She's trying to decide if she wants to pay the exorbitant price of a pineapple, holding it up and scrutinizing the fruit intensely.

She has no idea what makes a good pineapple, she realizes.

[C - Westminster Library]

She doesn't want to read anything, either. Nothing sounds good.

There's plenty of recent fiction on the shelf, and she scans the spines waiting for something to jump out at her. It all sounds like garbage, though. Pointless garbage. Three-hundred pages of fictional people and their problems while Elizabeth's life is actually dangerous and difficult.

She shoulders her bag and walks out of the shelving without picking out anything.

[D - Westminster Park]

Elizabeth sits there with her phone on her usual park bench, staring intently at the screen. It's got a message written on it, but she knows she's angry and she's texting angry. Part of her says she's allowed to be angry, the other says to just delete the message and move on. Nothing good will come of being angry.

She hits send anyway.

I wanted to go with you. I thought of you as my friend.

There's a pause.

900000278: Delivery has failed.

She locks the phone and tilts her head back over the back of the bench. That felt like her last way out of feeling so low, and now... she's missed her chance.

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She narrows her eyes briefly-- sure it was probably 'the fashion' to be thin, but she's wondering where he got the idea that Elizabeth cares a whit for what's fashionable. She looks like she fell into a retro thrift bin almost every day (probably because she more or less does whenever she needs clothes).

"If you're hungry, I could eat something I suppose."

It probably helps that Norrell does not, in fact, have any idea what is in fashion or not. He assumes it probably is.

He picks up a bell and rings impatiently for attention, determined now to save Elizabeth from her perceived fate of probable starvation.

"You cannot be expected to concentrate on studies, on practice or much of anything else if you have not eaten properly!" he exclaims, "it is no wonder you find yourself struggling! No, no, we will find you something -- it is a wonder you have not fainted clean away!"

"Well it's not like I'm starving myself or anything like that. Just not eating well, by my estimation..." She hasn't had the time or heart to think about planning meals and all that.

"...Mister Norrell, how do you go about deciding whether or not to do someone a favor?"

Assuming he ever has.

The question surprises him, and he blinks rapidly at her -- pauses a moment before slowly setting down the bell and letting his face fall into a curious frown.

"A favour?" he echoes, and mulls this over. "I suppose it would depend on the nature of the favour. A favour can be very big or very small, Miss DeWitt! To be owed a favour by the right people can be very useful, very useful indeed! But it must be something you feel comfortable doing, of course! You must consider yourself first!"

Yes, she supposed that she could expect something like 'you must consider yourself first' from Norrell. But in a twisted kind of way, she needed to know how someone like him thought about service to others. In some form or other.

"I don't think you have to worry about me going too far outside my comfort zone, Mister Norrell. But what if you did something small for someone, something that didn't take too much time but was important to them, and then after you did it for them, they just disappeared?"

A small favour, unreturned? He settles into his chair a little more, cocking his head slowly.

"If this person has vanished," he answers finally, "then there is little to be done..."

Yet it makes him think of Coward all of a sudden, and that makes his frown deeper in irritation.

"Were this person to return, of course, I would not trust them. I could not! Not after such an action."

Perhaps, there, his feelings colour the words -- but Cowards sudden disappearance is a betrayal to Norrell, one he cannot let go of.

"I don't think he's coming back. Ever. And it's not that I want anything done about it, but..." Elizabeth curls into herself, suddenly looking incredibly wounded though her voice doesn't seem to indicate it.

"I thought we were friends."

Ah, yes. Norrell's expression changes now. Frown shifting from one of irritation to something more sympathetic. He nods once, is quiet a moment before speaking.

"I understand," he says finally, "such things are difficult. Very difficult indeed. I have known many people, Miss DeWitt, who I thought were my friends. Who acted as my friends until they had what they wanted. The world is a cruel place, especially to those it disagrees with. But just remember -- you are better than them. They will come back, and when they do they will see that you are stronger. That you do not need them now. Then they will regret what they have done very much."

Norrell has done plenty of terrible things, and Elizabeth knows that she should take Norrell's words with a tiniest grain of salt possible. But in her hurt, she can see some logic to it. The world is a cruel place, it's been cruel to her since the day she was born. She'd just hoped that it would let up, just a little, if she put enough good into her life.

It doesn't seem that way, though. Not from where she's sitting now.

"I don't think people who do these kinds of things regret their actions, Mister Norrell. I think there in so deep they think it's justified somehow."

"They will regret it," Norrell assures her, "when they see the person you become without them. The person who is much greater than they will ever be."

He offers her a small, awkward sort of smile --interrupted by a quick knock at the door that proceeds a manservant peering in. Norrell looks up in surprise, annoyed for a moment before remembering he rang.

"Sandwiches?" he prompts. He has no idea what manner of sandwich she might like, but surely the kitchens can come up with something! That is what he pays them for!

"You have a lot of faith in me," she says with a faint smirk. Elizabeth has never had much faith in her own magic-- she can barely control it when she feels this upset about something. She can't control her emotions, she can't control her magic... is there anything she has control over?

She looks up and turns to look at the servant, smiling faintly. "Do you have ham and egg salad?"

He nods and Norrell waves impatiently at the man, as if even the time he has taken to agree is making him too slow.

"Bring us a selection," he insists, and the man slips from the room before he can be chided again.

"I have faith in you," Norrell adds finally, "because I have seen your potential, Miss DeWitt! If you could only focus a little more -- then, then you could be a great witch! I am sure of it! Oh, but I understand your struggles! You are still young!"

Poor man, he was just trying to do his job right by, you know, actually caring what Elizabeth said regarding her sandwich preferences. But she lets it go for the moment and looks back at Norrell.

"...I really don't think it's my age, Mister Norrell. Do you know anything about how I ended up here? In London?"

She can't imagine he bothered himself with the details of one witch but... he's surprised her before.

Norrell blinks rapidly at this, considers the question. In truth, Norrell is paranoid enough to do a little digging about anyone and everyone he associates with -- but not in absolute detail. That, and his contacts do not reach entirely across the water to America.

"I understand you had some trouble," he begins delicately, "in America."

"'Some trouble', that's a delicate way of putting it," she snorts and gives the desk a sardonic smile. Finally, Elizabeth looks up and fixes Norrell with a piercing look. "I didn't know I was a witch until about a year ago. Before then, I thought it was strange, but normal, that I could set things on fire if I tried. I never saw another human or supernatural being while I was growing up. Complete and total isolation aside from books.

"...so I imagine you can see why having a friend would be considered a momentous thing."

[Open] Baby's Got Blue Eyes

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