undergrounds | [ Active / Closed ] Caught in the crossfire

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[ Active / Closed ] Caught in the crossfire

It's been a complicated few months for Lancelot.

As a Guardian, it isn't terribly great to know one of the Night Council has 'vanished' under mysterious circumstances. Gilbert Norrell may not have been a personal favourite of his, but he was still someone the Guardians were there to protect. Moreover, the investigation is going slowly.

Which is also not brilliant, considering he'd just been promoted.

As both a Police Officer and a Guardian both, there's little Lancelot likes less than the feeling of a dead end.

Then, of course, there's the vampire problem.

Lancelot thinks he can be forgiven for feeling a touch bitter over that.

Richmond -- Early August, Closed to Natasha

Lancelot is starting to feel more than uneasy about what is happening with Islington.

Especially since he has unwittingly helped create the current situation.

He dislikes feeling used, and even if he has managed to fend them off once from taking back the territory he took the loss of trust is something that stings.

Jean-Claude makes him feel uneasy. He'd liked him at first, the man had even saved him. Yet everything that came after makes Lancelot wonder if he has trusted too easily. What the vampire has told him is true -- in comparison surely he is far from the worst one, but then again perhaps that is only because Lancelot has not seen him at his worse. Perhaps he is being fooled all over again.

What he needs is someone who better understands vampires than he does, which is honestly not difficult. Yet... equally, there is someone he can think of.

Although most likely this isn't what she'd been thinking of when he'd offered to meet her.

He's standing outside the small, brightly coloured shop with one hand shoved into the pockets of faded jeans. The sun is long set, but the place is open until midnight -- although Lancelot suspects the fact that this caters to the supernatural community is entirely unintentional. Lily is sat pressed up against his legs, leaning slightly into him as his free hand ruffles her white fur. She's the first to sense Natasha approaching, and looks around before pushing to all fours -- tail beginning to swish up over her back. Lancelot looks up in turn, brightens a little at the sight of her and offers a small smile.

Then he belatedly realises he's standing in front of a small frozen yogurt shop and looks back at it self-consciously for a second before offering her a shrug.

"I hope it's everything you thought it would be," he says, and his lips twitch in barely repressed amusement.

Southwark -- backdated to June / Closed to Faolan.

Lancelot is more than a little surprised he actually won, but he's not arguing with it.

Now, though, as adrenaline begins to wear off all the cuts and scrapes he's wearing begin to hurt and as he looks down at himself... Lancelot can't help but laugh a little.

He looks like he belongs on the cover of some utterly ridiculous romance novel, shirt sliced and covered with blood. Doesn't help that it's a white shirt. Why did he wear a white shirt? He wasn't thinking, that's why, he was too angry to think. Sighing a little he tries to work out the best way to get home like this. He'll be stared at if he takes public transport. Maybe a taxi would be more forgiving.

With a heavy sigh he plods his way back toward the gaggle of Daybreak witches -- then catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

Faolan? Of all people -- well, Lancelot would have dragged him into such a thing once upon a time but... Faolan is now the leader of Hillingdon, and already has enough political complication without looking as if he's assisting in a Daybreak claim.

Lancelot blinks at him a moment before frowning and beginning to cautiously step over.

"If you're looking to help," he begins slowly, "you're a little late now. I'm afraid it appears to be over."

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"I could go for some coffee," Natasha says as she straightens. She won't encourage Lily with more affection while Lancelot is trying to get her to behave and go inside. "I'll have a look at the menu."

There's a brief pause as they move inside and queue up, Natasha taking in the atmosphere. Not exactly the kind of place one would expect to run into vampires, though given the hour and the fact that there's people here, she wouldn't be surprised to find another one. After giving the area a cursory glance, her focus returns to Lancelot.

"So what have you been getting up to? Hopefully not too much trouble." That last is added half out of optimism, and half to let Lancelot know that if things have been rough, she doesn't mean to pry. She knows what London has been like lately.

He lets out a soft huff of laughter at that, persuading Lily to sit beside them as they wait.

"I'm always in trouble," he says, a hushed sort of confession. "I fear I might attract it, or else it is attracted to me. Did you hear about Southwark?"

About how Daybreak took it off the vampires, and then they tried (and failed) to take it back. With very coincidental timing, too, as it so happens. Since plenty of the vampires were busy trying to stop Daybreak taking it right as Millicent was getting into trouble.

"I've heard about it," Natasha admits, glancing at him sideways. There's a little concern where he's going with that line of questioning, and she adds, "I try to keep up with what's happening, but that's the kind of thing I try to stay far away from at this point."

She smiles then, a little sympathetically. "It's the kind of thing that seems to seek some people out though."

"I was involved both times," he admits, and lofts an eyebrow at her. "I'm definitely one of those people. Jean-Claude was involved too, and I'm..." Lancelot hesitates, tilts his head slightly. "Well, I may be a little bias now, but I'm starting to wonder if I wasn't wrong about him."

He winces, shifting his weight between his feet as he thinks it over before taking another step forward as the queue moves.

"I don't know enough about this all to judge. Forgive me, I didn't mean to drag you into my problems. You'll have to be careful, asking me about how much trouble I've been in. There's always some, and it's never simple."

"That's how trouble works, though. You always want to talk about it to people who aren't involved." She glances back over her shoulder, an almost unconscious move that somehow doesn't draw attention to itself.

It doesn't seem like anyone is listening.

"But if you need an ear..." Her lips twitch. "I'm pretty committed to staying uninvolved, and I'd like to think I'm unbiased. I'm also pretty good at keeping a secret."

"At least let me get you that coffee first," he protests, and steps forward as they reach the front of the queue. He digs out his wallet, squinting at the board behind the till and vaguely reaching out a hand to persuade Lily to sit.

(She doesn't want to sit, she can smell exciting food everywhere!)

"Cappuccino for me," he says finally, "regular. What do you want?"

"Let's say an Americano," Natasha says, the irony of her order not lost on her. "I might have to get a cup of yogurt too. Never had one before, so why not try it?" She doubted she'd appreciate the flavor, but she might appreciate the texture or the experience.

"Seems sad to get to this point and never try, right?"

Besides, it will give her something extra to do while they talk. Natasha got the feeling Lancelot had a fair amount to chat about.

"I think I can stretch to that."

He lets her pick a flavour while the coffees are made, gently ruffling at Lily then juggling his cup of coffee and the leash. There's a corner table near the street he thinks they can risk, the music here is moderately loud and between that and the noise of traffic and passers by they wont exactly be the centre of attention. Lily fusses under the table until he gets her to sit down, half distracted herself by the occasional dog passing by.

"Is life at Redbright suiting you?"

So maybe he doesn't just want to launch straight into his own problems. He feels a little bad doing so, even if he had half intended to ask her advice.

Natasha makes herself comfortable in the corner, half an eye on her companion and half on the foot traffic as she takes the first sip of her coffee. Small blessings—coffee was strong and distinct enough a flavor that she still found herself able to appreciate it. She also appreciates the heat that seeped into her fingers and having something to do with her hands.

She wasn't expecting the first question to be about her, but she takes it in stride.

"Better than I might have expected," she answers honestly. "I wondered if it would actually work, all things considered. But it seems to be okay so far."

Not exactly a winning endorsement, but still something. They hadn't chased her off with pitchforks yet, so there was that. At least some members of the team seemed to be getting used to her, even warming up. That was all she could really ask.

"I could do worse."

"You could, a lot worse with the way things are going. I'm not so sure what would be a better option, honestly."

Islington is painting a target on himself, Hillingdon is run by Faolan who has a grudge against vampires and... likely is not, is probably swamped with hits on vampires currently. What does that leave? She could be an ally for one of the Circles, but they're at each others throats. The fae are still recovering from all Norrell's propaganda. The East End Pack are somewhat still bristling at the vampires. She isn't exactly swimming in options.

"Redbright is about as noncommittal as it comes, when looking at all the supernatural problems London has. If you intend to keep to your idea of not committing it's a good option."

He flicks her a small, faintly amused smile at that. Lancelot didn't really intend to commit himself but, here he is. Head of the Night Council Guardians and still attached to Circle Daybreak. He can't say he's not committed, even if he has doubts.

"At least it gives me some perspective," Natasha agrees. She feels a little more committed than she'd like to admit, not taking sides but that doesn't mean she's not invested in certain outcomes.

The world didn't always allow neutrality.

Something that seemed to hold very true for Lancelot too. He doesn't seem like he set out to be in the middle of... this. Whatever he was getting into this time, with Jean-Claude.

"From the sound of it, your life is a lot more interesting than mine is right now."

He lets out a soft huff of protest at that, drops his eyes to his drink.

"Isn't that meant to be a curse? 'May you live in interesting times?'" Lancelot shrugs slightly, stirs his coffee idly as he thinks. "I suppose," he continues finally, "it's my own fault. I've known about all this for a year now, but I probably haven't... learnt as much as I could. What I said before was true, Jean-Claude saved my life, but... I also have a... a suspicion he's been using me."

Which is an awkward enough way to start, but it's an awkward topic.

"So they say," Natasha agrees, her lips curling playfully. She doesn't bring up to fact she knows the Chinese. That seems beside the point. Especially with what he reveals as he continues.

"Using you how?" She asks for the clarification evenly, keeping any suspicion out of he expression. She knows Jean-Claude, and she'd like to believe the best of him. Or at least, she'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt. But she knows how vampires can function with the same fluency she speaks all of her languages—better than some. She doesn't suggest one way or the other whether he ought to be afraid of being used, or how a vampire could be taking advantage.

He toys with his coffee uncomfortably, trying to decide how to approach things.

"The idea to take Southwark back from Islington... it wasn't my idea. It was his. I... I'm doing this this in the wrong order, forgive me." Lancelot winces, sits back from the table and picks up his coffee to keep playing with. "When he saved me, months ago now, I was... bleeding a lot. Enough that I started to lose consciousness in a few minutes. He didn't... turn me, obviously, but he did help me heal... faster than I should have."

With vampire blood. The implication, he hopes, is easy enough that he doesn't have to say it out loud.

"It wouldn't have been my choice but... I didn't have much of a choice at the time. What I didn't know was... the side-effects that might have."

Edited 2016-08-18 10:54 (UTC)

Natasha presses her lips together around a slow bite of frozen yogurt. It's not bad—the dessert. She still gets a little of the tartness and the rest is appealing enough in terms of texture and temperature.

It also gives her an excuse not to respond immediately.

After finishing he bite, she does speak, her tone slow, still neutral but more understanding. "I know the kind of side effects you're talking about," she says. "I'm guessing he didn't warn you after he healed you up."

No, although equally Lancelot wasn't exactly keen on chatting to him he supposes.

"He didn't, and he didn't... ask, or... Well, I went to find him finally. He didn't seem to think it should bother me. Perhaps it is... more normal, or expected but..."

But Lancelot wasn't expecting it, and he wasn't happy about it either. Having a vampire he barely knew fishing around in his dreams.

"Just so we're on the same page," Natasha says softly, lowering her voice, her attention on the floor. "Just what is it that might be normal or expected?"

Some things, she had to admit, probably would be normal. Sharing blood created a certain connection. But that didn't mean that connection couldn't be taken advantage of.

"It's probably not reassuring, but... there's more than one way for that to go."

He fidgets uncomfortably, uneasy about the whole thing still, before rallying to try and get through it.

"I... kept seeing him, when I was... dreaming. I have the... same dreams regularly, they change but usually not... this way. At first I thought it was some... trick of my subconscious but... it wasn't, he was there."

Natasha doesn't look him in the eyes after he says that, giving him what privacy she can while he admits what's happened. At the same time, his admission... it could be a lot worse. She can see how Jean-Claude might consider it relatively benign compared to what he might have done.

"That can happen," she admits. Oddly enough, she's only been on the human side of it. She's never been one to share her blood with mortals.

It's only been recently that she's socialized enough with mortals to consider it.

"Blood creates a link. Whether we're drinking it or giving it. It's a different kind of connection, but it can happen that way."

"But he didn't have to use it," Lancelot insists, unsure if it's a statement or a question really. If he's trying to defend his opinion or ask for reassurance on it. He winces at himself, eyes flicking up to her then away again.

"Forgive me," he says more quietly, "I just... I suppose I'm... sensitive, to... that sort of thing."

To thinks in his head he didn't know were there, or didn't invite to be there.

Edited (wrong icon...) 2016-08-21 22:08 (UTC)

"Did he use it?" Sometimes it wasn't as simple as that. Sharing could be natural. But that possibility didn't necessarily mean that it was.

"Or maybe I should ask how he used it."

Her lips tighten and she drops her eyes, considering that maybe she should be more bothered by this herself. He's human. And what Jean-Claude did might matter less than the fact he'd done it at all.

She's not entirely sure herself.

"He did. It wasn't an... accident, his being in my dreams. He said he wanted to... get to know me."

Which, to Lancelot, is still ridiculous. Why not just talk to him? Why go delving into his head?

He takes a slow breath, shakes his head.

"That... isn't my only concern, though. When I went to talk to him about it... Southwark was his idea. Taking it back from Islington. Which it -- well, he is part of Islington. I thought, perhaps... Forgive me, I don't know what I thought. That he was... letting me know he didn't agree with other vampires. Persuading me to strike out at Millicent because she was worse than he was. Yet.... the timing."

Lancelot pauses, winces and closes his eyes.

"I think I was their distraction."

Wince, well, while all that was going down... Millicent went down elsewhere.

It's the second piece of information that catches Natasha's attention and she sits back, for a moment she finds herself seriously considering if that could have been the case. If it is, then Alex had a truly unprecedented number of vampire allies all helping her remove or get away with removing Millicent. That alone makes her skeptical—though unfortunately she'd be hard pressed to explain her reasoning without admitting that she'd helped the killer get away with murder.

"I can see where this goes from uncomfortable to worrying," Natasha says after a moment of thinking. "For that to be the case, he'd have to be in league with a werewolf. Just for a start."

But clearly that's possible.

"It could be that the assassination was a crime o opportunity. She struck when the nest was looking the other way." Another pause, but this time Natasha is willing to admit to her knowledge. She already let as much go to Cooper; at least she would be consistent. "I know for a fact she was watching Millicent for days leading up to the attack..."

Which is a plausible reason for Jean-Claude's collusion to be accidental, at least.

Lancelot gives a small shake of his head, lips pressed together and brow furrowed.

"I'm a police officer, Natasha. I don't believe in coincidence. It's too tidy. Not only that, after persuading me to take Southwark he quickly tried to take it back. I did a little digging. He isn't a young vampire, but he's hasn't been this... involved before. He's starting climbing the ladder recently. It may be... nothing. It may have been solely about Millicent -- forgive me for saying so but I can understand why he may have taken issue with her. Yet... all the same. I don't believe in coincidence."

"Believe me, I understand that." She takes another bite of her frozen yogurt, moving a little more slowly as she considers the situation. What she knows. What she can guess. What she can't speak to. Jean-Claude's actions and motivations are, in the end, something she can't speak to. "I know how it looks, and I can't say I know Jean-Claude well enough to defend him. You're right about him climbing the ranks lately, and while I'd like to believe it's because someone has to get Islington in line before they start a war. But I don't really know."

It strikes her a great deal more like the nest politics she's used to than Harris or Millicent's reigns, though.

"I suppose it doesn't matter what his motivation is either, if he's playing you."

Her lips tighten as she considers the possibilities. "Unfortunately, I'm not really in he position to ind an answer either."

[ Active / Closed ] Caught in the crossfire

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