Lord Colin Coward (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
occultdisciple) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-05-10 12:59 pm
occultdisciple) wrote in undergrounds2016-05-10 12:59 pm
Entry tags:
May catch-all
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
Kaspars, mid-may : closed to Nancy
The note was, perhaps, a bit old-fashioned, but he enjoyed when he was from. He'd been raised in an area where being a gentleman meant something. And with a young lady who was in his keeping? He was certainly going to be precisely that.
Which was why he'd sent the note along with one of the first of a promised gifts.
For his part, Lord Coward arrived a little earlier than his invitation had suggested.
He'd ordered the finest of the white wines from the menu, and a small jewellery box sat on the plates awaiting his guest.
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
Tower Hamlets, mid May : open to all
It isn't uncommon to find Lord Coward in one of the little cafés near his home when the weather is decent, as it happens to be today. He has nowhere to be: no press conferences to give, no office to man, no Nest to pacify. He is, instead, simply on his own and able to enjoy a proper newspaper, a good cup of coffee, and a decent day in May.
Until, of course, he hears something of a commotion. Which doesn't just die down. So, instead, he stands, approaches, and clears his throat.
"What seems to be the trouble here?"
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Greenhouse, mid May : closed to open to all
The restaurant was one he thought Norrell would appreciate. It was a premier place to be seen, and having lunch together publicly would only help them both. After all, he had to cultivate his alliances after having been unexpectedly called away.
"Thank you for joining me," he offered as he stood and held out a hand. "I must apologise for my previous departure. My superior called me away quite suddenly."
Which was true. His Sire had summoned him, and he had gone, as any vampire would.
After about two hours, it was abundantly clear that his invitation had been refused. Which, well, was equally parts understandable and insulting. But he'd deal with that later. He paid the rather minor tab and departed the restaurant, heading down the street. It was a fine night to walk home, he decided.
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Coward's home, mid May : closed to James
The promised dinner was an elegant French course of meals with steak at the centre. It was something he could still somewhat enjoy himself, especially with as rare as his cook had made it. She understood her master's tastes all too well.
"Ah, wonderful to see you, Mister Memon," he said, rising from his seat as the man was shown in to his study. He circled around the desk and offered his hand. "Thank you for coming."
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Greenwich, mid May : open to all
Millicent and the others were likely still irritated with him about pulling the vampires out of the territory. Still, he'd secured more for them than he'd lost, and that was what mattered to him. An alliance and future favours were always worth far more than a little bit of land. Not that Millicent cared about his vision for the future.
Still, it had been done, and he was a vampire in werewolf territory. Not that he seemed greatly concerned. After all, he was well known, even just as the Police Commissioner. Not many would want to mess with him, especially if they also knew what he was.
But he's out for a meal.
Might it cause a bit of trouble? Perhaps. But that's why it's fun.
Which is why the little bar catches his attention, and he goes in, surveying the crowd for a good moment. He was particularly looking for any young men he might be able to talk into more than a feeding. But, at the very least, he was going to find someone young. They always tasted the best.
"Scotch, neat," he says to the bartender.
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Islington Nest territories, May 13th-15th : open to all
Millicent had offered them all the blood they could drink, and Coward was keen to not let the opportunity pass untaken. After all, he was in need of more to sire if he wanted to reclaim his rank and rise higher in the estimations of his Nest.
He had two primary hunting grounds: the bluest of blood and the bluest of collar.
The very rich wanted to live forever. The very poor wanted power.
Both could be helped by the promise of becoming a vampire.
So whether it was at the house of someone with more money than they knew what to do with or down in the slums, Lord Coward could be seen talking to someone young, someone with plenty of life still to be led, and leaning in close, clearly engaged in intimate conversation. Which could be interrupted, especially when he indicated his own palm and produced a knife covertly, or left alone to finish letting the individual drink from his cut palm then go, for now, their own way.
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
East End territories, May 21st : open to all
To say that Lord Coward is unhappy with the 'Wolf Hunt' Millicent has declared would be putting it mildly indeed. He had carefully cultivated his alliance with East End before he'd left, and now all of that was being thrown onto the fire. He'd raged to James Memon's voice mail for a few minutes on the subject.
But he'd needed to assure the man he hadn't known about this before tonight, even if the alpha was in no state to reply to him until the morning.
Still, Coward did what any unhappy vampire ought to do: he went hunting.
His prey tonight was neither humans nor wolves. Instead, he sought out those vampires in werewolf territory who were doing their leader's request proud. Those he stood a chance against, he attacked with full force, and he made sure the fight wasn't over until they were dead. Which was easy to frame a wolf for having done.
Then? Well. There was no reason for the pelts they'd collected to go to waste. The wolves were already dead, and he could use the support of the Nest, so he took them to claim for himself.
Which wasn't to say that he had an easy time of his fights or entirely set the scene without being seen. But he tried, at least, to make it swift and able to pass a decent inspection.
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Southwark, late May : open to Islington members/allies
This whole thing was a mess. While he didn't mind the open season to feed and turn, the declaration against the wolves had gone too far. Still, the Night Council could hardly come down on them. The representative herself had authorised all of it. Which, in a way, made him a little irritated.
"What do you want?"
The annoyance in his voice? Not wholly intentional. But all he wants right now is to be left alone with the young man pretending to be very interested in the politics of his position in the mundane world while blood drips from his neck, onto Coward's fingers, which he takes a moment to lick off.
"I hope it's important."
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
Islington, late May : closed to first responder
Two vampires lay dead. Another was badly wounded, and a third had the injured party cornered.
Lord Coward had several injuries, and they weren't healing, as the wooden spikes were still driven into him. He could hardly see straight, but he still spit blood from his mouth out onto the ground.
"You're out of your mind."
"I know it was you! Just because you're fucking one of those dogs, you think you can betray us--"
"Whatever you think--"
"Jus' shut th' fuck up! I know you killed Lenny! And Marcus!"
"Then take it up with Millicent," Coward challenged, spitting again. There was so much blood. "If you have some sort of proof--"
"Everyone knows!"
"Then why isn't she executing me? Ah. Yes. Because I brought her pelts."
"You stole those!"
"If you could prove that ridiculous idea, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Enough! You're dying for what you did!"
"I doubt it," Coward muttered under his breath, though he sounded more confident than he felt.
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
Kaspars, mid-may : closed to Nancy
My dear friend,
Allow me to apologise for the abruptness of my departure. I was needed elsewhere but have since returned to London. I come, as well I ought, bearing gifts.
If you would permit me to beg your indulgence, please meet me at the Kaspars at eight o'clock this coming Wednesday evening. I would appreciate the company.
Lord Coward
The note was, perhaps, a bit old-fashioned, but he enjoyed when he was from. He'd been raised in an area where being a gentleman meant something. And with a young lady who was in his keeping? He was certainly going to be precisely that.
Which was why he'd sent the note along with one of the first of a promised gifts.
For his part, Lord Coward arrived a little earlier than his invitation had suggested.
He'd ordered the finest of the white wines from the menu, and a small jewellery box sat on the plates awaiting his guest.
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
Tower Hamlets, mid May : open to all
It isn't uncommon to find Lord Coward in one of the little cafés near his home when the weather is decent, as it happens to be today. He has nowhere to be: no press conferences to give, no office to man, no Nest to pacify. He is, instead, simply on his own and able to enjoy a proper newspaper, a good cup of coffee, and a decent day in May.
Until, of course, he hears something of a commotion. Which doesn't just die down. So, instead, he stands, approaches, and clears his throat.
"What seems to be the trouble here?"
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Greenhouse, mid May : closed to open to all
To my honourable colleague, Mister Norrell, High Priest of Daybreak,
Allow me first to offer my condolences for the outcome of the latest election. I regret that my absence prevented me from assisting your campaign, otherwise you would have had my full support.
I should very much like to meet over dinner and discuss the current situation. If you would be so kind as to meet me Monday at eight at the Greenhouse, I would be most honoured.
Lord Coward
The restaurant was one he thought Norrell would appreciate. It was a premier place to be seen, and having lunch together publicly would only help them both. After all, he had to cultivate his alliances after having been unexpectedly called away.
"Thank you for joining me," he offered as he stood and held out a hand. "I must apologise for my previous departure. My superior called me away quite suddenly."
Which was true. His Sire had summoned him, and he had gone, as any vampire would.
After about two hours, it was abundantly clear that his invitation had been refused. Which, well, was equally parts understandable and insulting. But he'd deal with that later. He paid the rather minor tab and departed the restaurant, heading down the street. It was a fine night to walk home, he decided.
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Coward's home, mid May : closed to James
Mister Memon,
I would be delighted if you would join me at my home this Friday at seven for dinner. Which will be prepared by a human cook and fit for human consumption.
I should very much like to discuss where we stand politically, as we both understand how the situation can change quickly.
Lord Coward
The promised dinner was an elegant French course of meals with steak at the centre. It was something he could still somewhat enjoy himself, especially with as rare as his cook had made it. She understood her master's tastes all too well.
"Ah, wonderful to see you, Mister Memon," he said, rising from his seat as the man was shown in to his study. He circled around the desk and offered his hand. "Thank you for coming."
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Greenwich, mid May : open to all
Millicent and the others were likely still irritated with him about pulling the vampires out of the territory. Still, he'd secured more for them than he'd lost, and that was what mattered to him. An alliance and future favours were always worth far more than a little bit of land. Not that Millicent cared about his vision for the future.
Still, it had been done, and he was a vampire in werewolf territory. Not that he seemed greatly concerned. After all, he was well known, even just as the Police Commissioner. Not many would want to mess with him, especially if they also knew what he was.
But he's out for a meal.
Might it cause a bit of trouble? Perhaps. But that's why it's fun.
Which is why the little bar catches his attention, and he goes in, surveying the crowd for a good moment. He was particularly looking for any young men he might be able to talk into more than a feeding. But, at the very least, he was going to find someone young. They always tasted the best.
"Scotch, neat," he says to the bartender.
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Islington Nest territories, May 13th-15th : open to all
Millicent had offered them all the blood they could drink, and Coward was keen to not let the opportunity pass untaken. After all, he was in need of more to sire if he wanted to reclaim his rank and rise higher in the estimations of his Nest.
He had two primary hunting grounds: the bluest of blood and the bluest of collar.
The very rich wanted to live forever. The very poor wanted power.
Both could be helped by the promise of becoming a vampire.
So whether it was at the house of someone with more money than they knew what to do with or down in the slums, Lord Coward could be seen talking to someone young, someone with plenty of life still to be led, and leaning in close, clearly engaged in intimate conversation. Which could be interrupted, especially when he indicated his own palm and produced a knife covertly, or left alone to finish letting the individual drink from his cut palm then go, for now, their own way.
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
East End territories, May 21st : open to all
To say that Lord Coward is unhappy with the 'Wolf Hunt' Millicent has declared would be putting it mildly indeed. He had carefully cultivated his alliance with East End before he'd left, and now all of that was being thrown onto the fire. He'd raged to James Memon's voice mail for a few minutes on the subject.
But he'd needed to assure the man he hadn't known about this before tonight, even if the alpha was in no state to reply to him until the morning.
Still, Coward did what any unhappy vampire ought to do: he went hunting.
His prey tonight was neither humans nor wolves. Instead, he sought out those vampires in werewolf territory who were doing their leader's request proud. Those he stood a chance against, he attacked with full force, and he made sure the fight wasn't over until they were dead. Which was easy to frame a wolf for having done.
Then? Well. There was no reason for the pelts they'd collected to go to waste. The wolves were already dead, and he could use the support of the Nest, so he took them to claim for himself.
Which wasn't to say that he had an easy time of his fights or entirely set the scene without being seen. But he tried, at least, to make it swift and able to pass a decent inspection.
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Southwark, late May : open to Islington members/allies
This whole thing was a mess. While he didn't mind the open season to feed and turn, the declaration against the wolves had gone too far. Still, the Night Council could hardly come down on them. The representative herself had authorised all of it. Which, in a way, made him a little irritated.
"What do you want?"
The annoyance in his voice? Not wholly intentional. But all he wants right now is to be left alone with the young man pretending to be very interested in the politics of his position in the mundane world while blood drips from his neck, onto Coward's fingers, which he takes a moment to lick off.
"I hope it's important."
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
Islington, late May : closed to first responder
Two vampires lay dead. Another was badly wounded, and a third had the injured party cornered.
Lord Coward had several injuries, and they weren't healing, as the wooden spikes were still driven into him. He could hardly see straight, but he still spit blood from his mouth out onto the ground.
"You're out of your mind."
"I know it was you! Just because you're fucking one of those dogs, you think you can betray us--"
"Whatever you think--"
"Jus' shut th' fuck up! I know you killed Lenny! And Marcus!"
"Then take it up with Millicent," Coward challenged, spitting again. There was so much blood. "If you have some sort of proof--"
"Everyone knows!"
"Then why isn't she executing me? Ah. Yes. Because I brought her pelts."
"You stole those!"
"If you could prove that ridiculous idea, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Enough! You're dying for what you did!"
"I doubt it," Coward muttered under his breath, though he sounded more confident than he felt.
no subject
"Not visiting, but I haven't been in the city long. A couple of months—it can't be that surprising we wouldn't have run into each other before." She lowers her lashes half way, considering. "This isn't one of my usual haunts."
no subject
It's a bit pointed, but it needs to be. After all, he hasn't seen her around the Nest, which makes him wonder where her loyalties lie. Where she has been if not there.
no subject
"No," she says without a hesitation. It's not something she's hiding. "I'd say I go there about as little as I can manage."
no subject
Because it's worth knowing, certainly. If she'll even tell him.
no subject
no subject
"Lord Colin Coward, Police Commissioner of the Police of the Metropolitan."
no subject
"Natasha Romanoff."
no subject
no subject
"Hopefully I'm not interrupting your evening," she says, her eyebrow quirking up either in concern, or in response to his manners.