undergrounds | Semi-open: May 05

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Semi-open: May 05

Who: Lancelot and friends!
What: It's a birthday party! With both regular people and supernatural types. What could go wrong?
When: May 05
Where: Lancelot's flat & garden, Richmond!
Warnings: Gratuitous doggy! Probably a punch up later. Possibly some drunk kissing.

Lancelot's garden is not exactly an acre-large tented paradise.

He's not made of money.

It's big enough to just about fit the people invited across the patio and grass, with Lily variously herding them and rolling around, and he's flitting between them and the kitchen and living room and generally doing his best to butterfly around all of them making sure they're happy. The garden is relatively tidy, as tidy and well kept as a garden that suffers an enthusiastic dog can be. The hedges are neatly trimmed, the tree in one corner healthy and big enough to throw a little shade, and the one flowerbed border seems to mostly have some roses that are yet to fully bloom.

For those who he's only known since the incident last year he's given them a warning: not everyone who will be there is aware of the supernatural side of things, so try not to blurt it to people you don't know.

Despite it being his own birthday Lancelot is, of course, playing host. There's a table set up outside with finger food, salads, drinks and all sorts -- and food strategically inside for those who can't be out in the sun too. He appears to still be checking on more in the oven every so often too, but Lancelot does like to cook -- and he seems quite focused on making sure everyone has something they could eat.

Some of the drinks are alcoholic. The punch isn't that strong, but he has a few other drinks along the side for people who want them and some bottles of beer in an ice bucket. If someone decides to do a little mixing of course then it might wind up stronger.

His sound system is playing the soothing strains of Dire Straits through the place and all in all, for now at least things are going smoothly. So long as nobody says the wrong thing to the wrong person, it will probably be a nice evening. With the mixture of factions present alongside those who have no idea what a faction is, of course... that may be difficult.

[ OOC: Feel free to mingle away on the post with others here! ]

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Arthur's not wont to begin rants of any kind, just poor moods, but he accepts the change in subject gracefully. "The underground is a small world," he says with a shrug, "I'm sure there's a couple people I've met here. You work with Faolan, right?"

"I do, yes! Although I actually knew him before that, ran into him while he was investigating something. I was a little surprised to find out we'd be working together, but not in a bad way. Easier to settle into a job with someone you already know."

He flashes an easy smile, leans back into the counter.

"Did you know? Before the announcement. I know it was a little..." Here Lancelot hesitates, winces again. "Surprising, for some. He tried to keep from mixing it all."

Arthur smiles wryly at him. "No, I didn't. It was a bit of a surprise, actually."

He grimaces at that, takes a sip of his drink as he debates his answer.

"Faolan likes to keep secrets," he says finally, "not maliciously, just... like a stray dog that doesn't trust anyone. He doesn't trust himself not to make a bad choice, and doesn't trust anyone else not to be angry with him for it. Which, as has just been proven, does happen."

Lancelot shrugs, wrinkles his nose.

"He needs training out of it before he gets too deep, but I doubt it's happening any time soon. Which means you can probably expect awkward, defensive apologies to keep coming."

Arthur shrugs again, trying not to get angry about this all over again. It wasn't a personal slight in his eyes - he was really starting to think Faolan could be the guy to get the hunters of Hillingdon organized like Arthur thinks they need to be, but after this he's not sure the clan will trust him. It is a bit personal but Arthur's also not the type of guy to admit that.

"I'm just having a hard time seeing how it won't affect his other responsibilities. Just seems like a big conflict of interest to me."

"Perhaps, in some ways. Hillingdon has stayed out of politics a great deal. If it decides to be involved, it may be more difficult. If it doesn't... there's no conflict without interest."

He frowns in thought, flitting his eyes around the crowd.

"Then again... Faolan has already survived stopping Norrell taking more territory, despite being a Guardian. If he plays the line, it may not be as difficult as you think. If he plays it well, he has an advantage -- not a disadvantage. He's closer to the information that would help you."

Arthur's not going to discuss Hillingdon politics at length with someone who works for Sylvia Redbright, and he understands that Lancelot is trying to help out his friend, so he's going to keep things vague while he speaks.

"I appreciate the value of information, but it's still only worth so much," he says. "There's magic at play here. No matter what, you can never be sure the information isn't flowing both ways, and from where he's standing he has access to a lot from our side as well. You'll have to forgive me but my stance on magic is generally not to trust any of it regardless of how much I learn."

He inclines his head a fraction in acceptance.

"That's true," he admits, "and I will readily admit I've been a part of that." Lancelot pauses, presses his lips together. "I don't like... politics, subterfuge, I'm not good at it. I became a Guardian because I hoped... it would give me the power to protect people. I'm an idealist, I suppose. These things never quite go the way we want."

Arthur smirks. He's known an idealist or two in his time, and he has a certain amount of affection for the kind of person who sees the potential in things from an optimistic perspective rather than his own analytical approach.

"That's what a Guardian is supposed to be," he says. "Doesn't change who you work for."

"It doesn't," Lancelot agrees, "but -- there is a similarity between the police and Guardians, in that. You can work to enforce the spirit or the letter of something. The spirit is better, gives leeway where it is deserved. The letter can be cruel. Maybe some people at the council would prefer the letter of the law is pressed, but... what they don't know does not hurt them."

He shrugs again, lips flicking into a wry sort of smile.

"Your faction does not define who you are. My faction and my job do not define who I am." Dropping to crouch beside Lily he switches the hand his bottle is in, rubs at her ears as she pushes into his arms. "If I were to go on who I am... by experience, morals, beliefs -- I have no idea where I belong. There isn't a good place for me. But... there are places I can work to try and make a difference. If I don't work for the Night Council, I could have worked for Hillingdon. Made a difference that way. But I don't think it would suit me, somehow."

Arthur nods thoughtfully. He knows Lancelot is telling the truth as he knows it. There's nobility in the position and Arthur knows that. He's been in the military, he knows a little about moral responsibility, but that's not what drew him to it in the first place. It was just a thing he was mildly aware of as an aside to the structure, the planning and organization.

"I get it. I just feel like sometimes, all of that, the good intentions and everything, it kind of goes out the window when you bring magical oaths and supernatural powers into the mix."

He doesn't mean to dismiss Lancelot, which is why he doesn't say more on the subject, but he can't really admit that he's sure Faolan means to do good. There are too many things at play.

"You think supernatural powers cannot be used with good intent?" he prompts, cocking his head slightly. "That they have some inherent quality that changes the nature of a person?"

Arthur shrugs, pausing for a moment to try and figure out what he means to say here. He doesn't want to cause offense, so he speaks evenly and almost hesitantly, hoping Lancelot can see what he's trying to get at. "I think... regular humans have blackmail and persuasion to get other people to do what we want them to. Magic can be far more powerful and binding than either of those things. It's not about supernatural people having a certain character, it's more about the corrupt having better tools at their disposal to get what they want."

"That's true," Lancelot allows, "if they're strong enough. Fae can charm people, glamour themselves to appear different, witches can certainly bind fae and... perhaps, other people. I admit, I have no idea how easy or difficult such a thing is." He pauses himself, considering Arthur. "But you have a gun, and you can shoot a witch just as easily as a human. A rich enough human can buy an army, can buy weapons to arm an army, can organise a coup, could... perhaps over a long time, wear someone down until they're as obedient as someone persuaded by a fae."

"Yes," Arthur agrees, "but you have to admit the concept of free will is a little murky when you can sign a contract and be completely beholden to those terms no matter what. Humans may have binding contracts but none of them completely take away our ability to break them."

Lancelot tilts his head, wrinkles his nose a little.

"Not in the same way," he allows, "a legal document can be binding, can be without a break clause, but you are right -- the binding is not exactly the same in nature. It's fuzzy, though." He hesitates, shifting his grip on Lily as he debates if the next part is worth saying. "That is what Gilbert Norrell is trying to do," he says finally, "by stamping out anything that qualifies as dark magic. Putting a stop to anything that can hold an influence over a person, control them, bind them."

As much as many people may dislike him, his methods, it is the heart and soul of everything he does: bringing about the end of dark magic. Control and manipulation are things that qualify as dark magic.

"Yeah, and somehow that turned into banishing an entire species from London," Arthur says, still conversational about it. It's not that he has a horse in this race, but even he doesn't think eradication is ever an answer.

He shrugs, hoping not to go too far down that road and changing tack before they can get into any sort of argument about it. "I don't know, I guess it just adds another layer to consider. I trust that people can have good intentions, but I also know they can be influenced by other people who don't, with magic or plain old non-magical persuasion."

Lancelot grimaces, nods finally.

"I suppose that's my point. People can be influenced, magic or not. Can be good or bad, or somewhere between. Magic complicates things, but the complications aren't so different without out. Just the style and scale. I'm running on fae magic, after all, but somehow I'm apparently part of Daybreak and a protector of the Night Council -- which includes Norrell. The lines are all a little selective and strange. If someone tried to kill him and I managed to stop them I doubt he'd be principled enough to hold it against me."

Arthur nods along, absorbing all of this new information about Lancelot in contemplative silence for a few seconds before he goes on, selecting his words carefully so he doesn't betray his own feelings on the matter and still gets a little more for his trouble.

"So, you're with Daybreak but you're not a witch?" he asks, still keeping his tone casual.

"I'm not," he confirms, "it's... all a little complicated. You'd probably need a few more drinks to cope with the whole story, but... the short version is that a Daybreak witch helped me and I suppose I simply thought that made them good people and worth helping. I did not exactly shop around at the time, but... I don't feel like it was a wrong choice in hindsight, either. Idealism."

He twitches a smile, shrugs slightly.

"What Daybreak is on paper may not match how it behaves, always, but I still support the spirit of the faction."

Just not the letter of Norrell's laws.

Arthur nods, shrugging to show he isn't defensive. "I have nothing against them in theory, only in... current practice," he says, taking on a wry smile at the end.

"My former employer, actually... he may have been Daybreak if anyone could have gotten him to stop moving for long enough. He wasn't much for restrictions, but he was more interested in research and theory than practicing most of the time."

Lancelot lets out a huff of amusement, barely restrained, and matches Arthur's shrug.

"Perhaps we aren't so different then," he offers, and shifts to lean his weight slightly more against the counter. "just with varying levels of cynicism, I think."

"Well, that and the fae magic," Arthur offers with a smile. He has no magic of his own to speak of, just the near-uncanny ability to pick up new skills, like shooting vampires for instance.

"There is that, although mine is not quite as flashy as most. I'll not be wielding fire or any such thing."

He widens his eyes a fraction, as if to say magic users, right? Then darts his eyes off around the party and shakes his head.

"It's something I absorbed, not something I really wield."

Edited 2016-06-02 18:44 (UTC)

Arthur nods thoughtfully. "I've heard that can happen if you spend a long time around the fae," he says.

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Semi-open: May 05

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