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)
undergrounds2016-08-14 09:03 pm
reticence) wrote in undergrounds2016-08-14 09:03 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!
There aren’t many narrow, dark alleyways in Richmond -- but there are some.
Lancelot only needs to walk down one to get in trouble.
He’s cutting through between houses on his way back from Tesco. He hadn’t meant to be long, just needed some fresh milk and a loaf of bread for next week, so he’s only dressed in a light t-shirt and some cut-offs. The air is still warm even this late, and he’s distracted -- half tapping his phone awake every so often wondering if he should say something. Faolan doesn’t normally stand him up, but it has been difficult lately. Then again what if something happened? Should he check? He doesn’t want to be clingy, after all…
His senses prickle, telling him something is happening, and he barely gets enough time to turn around before something is being swung at him. There’s a soft clack as his phone hits the ground and skitters away into someone’s front garden, and bread and milk get dumped unceremoniously into someone’s bin before the vampires vanish away.
All the lights are on in his flat, music still softly cycling through his library, but anyone who hops the fence into his back garden will realise Lily is pacing the kitchen all alone.
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Faolan is a man dedicated to his job, dedicated to his cause, and dedicated to finding an answer when a challenge presents itself to him. Which is why, when confronted with the issue of what to do about Raymond, he finds himself struggling with the dilemma. Of course the vampire is a maniac, a danger to the public, but he is also currently faction leader for Islington, which means that by proxy, he is creating a danger through his vampires as well.
It gives him a lot to think about, which is exactly what he's doing, going over various reports of vampire activity from the past month, taking note of the steady incline of injury or homicide at the hands of the Islington vampires, and correlating it with the changes in policy that the vampires have enacted since then. He's not sure exactly what he's looking for, but he knows he'll find it if he just looks hard enough. And in fact, he's looking so hard that he works straight through the time that he'd arranged to meet up with Lancelot, and a good hour beyond that point before he realizes what he's done and leaps to his feet to track down his mobile with a curse.
Lancelot's mobile rings out with no response and Faolan curses again before shooting him a quick text to apologize for himself. And then another to ask if he'd rather reschedule. While Faolan waits for a response he checks the time and clears up his desk for the night. Putting away the reports and locking them up in the bottom drawer of his desk. Grabbing his phone and impatiently waiting for a response as he slips on his jacket and jogs downstairs to the main floor.
Ten minutes pass and he tries calling again. The phone rings out. Faolan wonders whether Lancelot had just gone to bed at this point, but it's early yet. Maybe he's left it on vibrate? He calls a few more times in succession, all of them ringing out to voicemail. He leaves one, as he heads out to the train station, deciding he might as well head to Lancelot's flat to apologize for himself, if nothing else. Sending another text, asking him if he's alright with that. Waiting for a response as he makes the trip that never comes.
By the time Faolan's made it to Lancelot's neighborhood, he's made his way through feeling guilty, then angry at himself, then angry at Lancelot for reacting this way, then working his way increasingly through a state of concern. He's pulled far more stupid stunts than missing a planned get-together with Lancelot, and the other man had never purposely stopped talking to him then. He tries to reason out what might have happened, maybe he had a headache, maybe he'd gone to bed, but the fact is that until Faolan knows for certain he can't help but feel an increasing amount of dread building up within him.
A feeling that does nothing to dissipate as Faolan reaches the other man's flat to find the lights on, the doors locked, music quietly seeping through from the stereo, and no response to the door. Not even when he rings the bell several times. The fact that he can hear Lily pacing inside concerns him even more, to the point where he decides to pop over to Lancelot's neighbor's to beg the key off of her (on the pretense that he'd lost the one he'd been given, which earned him a wary once-over but he'd been over enough to be recognizable at this point, for better or worse).
It doesn't take long for Faolan to determine that he isn't home. Nor does it take him long to determine that there's more at play than the other man being angry at him at this point. Whatever Lancelot might be feeling about Faolan after he'd skipped out on him that night, Lancelot would never leave Lily alone like this.
After three hours, sitting in the other man's flat with his dog, calling his mobile with no response, Faolan knows without a doubt that something is wrong. That Lancelot is missing. And come hell or high water, he will find him, he will find who did this, and he will make them pay.
((ooc: there are three threads below -- feel free to tag into one or more as you like! planning for this plot began here, but if you hadn't tagged into that please don't let that stop you from participating in this plot! LET'S RESCUE LANCELOT YOU GUYS!!))
Lancelot only needs to walk down one to get in trouble.
He’s cutting through between houses on his way back from Tesco. He hadn’t meant to be long, just needed some fresh milk and a loaf of bread for next week, so he’s only dressed in a light t-shirt and some cut-offs. The air is still warm even this late, and he’s distracted -- half tapping his phone awake every so often wondering if he should say something. Faolan doesn’t normally stand him up, but it has been difficult lately. Then again what if something happened? Should he check? He doesn’t want to be clingy, after all…
His senses prickle, telling him something is happening, and he barely gets enough time to turn around before something is being swung at him. There’s a soft clack as his phone hits the ground and skitters away into someone’s front garden, and bread and milk get dumped unceremoniously into someone’s bin before the vampires vanish away.
All the lights are on in his flat, music still softly cycling through his library, but anyone who hops the fence into his back garden will realise Lily is pacing the kitchen all alone.
Faolan is a man dedicated to his job, dedicated to his cause, and dedicated to finding an answer when a challenge presents itself to him. Which is why, when confronted with the issue of what to do about Raymond, he finds himself struggling with the dilemma. Of course the vampire is a maniac, a danger to the public, but he is also currently faction leader for Islington, which means that by proxy, he is creating a danger through his vampires as well.
It gives him a lot to think about, which is exactly what he's doing, going over various reports of vampire activity from the past month, taking note of the steady incline of injury or homicide at the hands of the Islington vampires, and correlating it with the changes in policy that the vampires have enacted since then. He's not sure exactly what he's looking for, but he knows he'll find it if he just looks hard enough. And in fact, he's looking so hard that he works straight through the time that he'd arranged to meet up with Lancelot, and a good hour beyond that point before he realizes what he's done and leaps to his feet to track down his mobile with a curse.
Lancelot's mobile rings out with no response and Faolan curses again before shooting him a quick text to apologize for himself. And then another to ask if he'd rather reschedule. While Faolan waits for a response he checks the time and clears up his desk for the night. Putting away the reports and locking them up in the bottom drawer of his desk. Grabbing his phone and impatiently waiting for a response as he slips on his jacket and jogs downstairs to the main floor.
Ten minutes pass and he tries calling again. The phone rings out. Faolan wonders whether Lancelot had just gone to bed at this point, but it's early yet. Maybe he's left it on vibrate? He calls a few more times in succession, all of them ringing out to voicemail. He leaves one, as he heads out to the train station, deciding he might as well head to Lancelot's flat to apologize for himself, if nothing else. Sending another text, asking him if he's alright with that. Waiting for a response as he makes the trip that never comes.
By the time Faolan's made it to Lancelot's neighborhood, he's made his way through feeling guilty, then angry at himself, then angry at Lancelot for reacting this way, then working his way increasingly through a state of concern. He's pulled far more stupid stunts than missing a planned get-together with Lancelot, and the other man had never purposely stopped talking to him then. He tries to reason out what might have happened, maybe he had a headache, maybe he'd gone to bed, but the fact is that until Faolan knows for certain he can't help but feel an increasing amount of dread building up within him.
A feeling that does nothing to dissipate as Faolan reaches the other man's flat to find the lights on, the doors locked, music quietly seeping through from the stereo, and no response to the door. Not even when he rings the bell several times. The fact that he can hear Lily pacing inside concerns him even more, to the point where he decides to pop over to Lancelot's neighbor's to beg the key off of her (on the pretense that he'd lost the one he'd been given, which earned him a wary once-over but he'd been over enough to be recognizable at this point, for better or worse).
It doesn't take long for Faolan to determine that he isn't home. Nor does it take him long to determine that there's more at play than the other man being angry at him at this point. Whatever Lancelot might be feeling about Faolan after he'd skipped out on him that night, Lancelot would never leave Lily alone like this.
After three hours, sitting in the other man's flat with his dog, calling his mobile with no response, Faolan knows without a doubt that something is wrong. That Lancelot is missing. And come hell or high water, he will find him, he will find who did this, and he will make them pay.
((ooc: there are three threads below -- feel free to tag into one or more as you like! planning for this plot began here, but if you hadn't tagged into that please don't let that stop you from participating in this plot! LET'S RESCUE LANCELOT YOU GUYS!!))
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Not that Sirius is too worried about catching her. Worst comes to worst, he can try talking to her. Although, he's not sure if he's mentioned his being a shapeshifter to Faolan before. First time for everything, he supposes.
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He glances around the flat, looking for Lily and to see if Lancelot has magically reappeared somewhere in the night -- thought he knows that's far from likely to have happened. "Here we are," he says, letting the other man inside and closing the door behind them.
It's a nice little flat, well if sparsely furnished. Faolan has spent many a night on the futon in the living room, and many an evening being fed at the breakfast nook just beyond. It's odd to be there without Lancelot. Without knowing where Lancelot is for that matter. He casts his eyes around for Lily.
I don't have... a dog icon...
The white samoyed is hiding in the kitchen, which is the coolest room in the house in the summer heat. She's curled up on her blanket there, although after a few seconds the sound of her claws clacking slightly on the tiles can be heard. She pads forward, head down and hunched a little nervously, and eyes the two of them.
If it were just Faolan she might be more at ease, but Lancelot is missing and now a stranger is here. She isn't very happy about that.
So she stops in the entrance to the kitchen and regards them both with a worried look. Is this good? Should this person be here? She doesn't know. Her tail twitches over back in a slight, short wag to see they might be friends.
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"It's okay."
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"Hey there," he says, stepping forward and offering his own hand to sniff before ruffling fingers through her fur, encouraging her to feel relaxed, even though he knows that Lancelot is still missing and that must be worrying, and bringing an unknown man into her house probably isn't helping her self-confidence. Maybe she can help, in some way. He wonders whether Sirius has some sort of connection with her, considering he can shift into a dog and all.
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It might be hitting Faolan with how close she's pressed against him, but he is a friend so he will not mind!
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"I'm a friend, we're here to help," he adds to his previous statement, hoping he can tap into some of his natural influence over dogs.
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He's not certain he really needs to be explaining this to her. He's not sure that she will really understand what he's saying but he feels compelled for some reason to explain regardless. Perhaps because he knows that's what Lancelot would be doing.
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"We're going to find him. Think you can help us?"
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Faolan tries to do his best at wrangling Lily out of Sirius' face but he's not used to having to do this himself, and while he has seen Lancelot do so countless times, he isn't certain how he does it. Perhaps an inherent command that she has come to understand from only the man himself.
He glances to Sirius before back at Lily herself. "I suppose it couldn't hurt," he says, after a moment. "What do you think?" he asks her, still not certain whether she would be able to understand him or not, but making the effort despite himself. "Do you think you can help us find Lancelot?" He tries to emphasize the last two words. If anything, surely her doggy brain can understand that much?
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To prove this fact she squirms free of Faolan and pads over to her bed, returns a moment later with a toy which she presents to them expectantly. See! She can find things! She is a good finder of things! Is she being good? She wags her tail helpfully, because she thinks she is!
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He makes eye contact with her as he speaks, hoping that maybe he'll have some effect.
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"This is his flat," he replies. "Let me see if I can find something that might help her get the picture," he offers, before stepping back and, after a moment's pause, crossing the front room and disappearing into the bedroom before reappearing with a tshirt of Lancelot's. It's obviously been worn already -- Faolan has fished it out of the other man's laundry, at that. But it should also smell like the other man. And hopefully help them them on their mission here.
"Here," he says, moving to crouch by the dog again, before showing it to Lily. "We want to find Lancelot," he tells Lily, holding out the shirt towards her, before looking at the other man again.
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