undergrounds | HOUNSLOW TERRITORY CLAIM

Just as Lancelot must recover from the ordeal with the vampires, so too must Faolan himself -- if, albeit, not quite in the same way. Faolan hadn't suffered any physical damage from the rescue, but emotionally he's on edge. The idea that the vampires could have just taken someone he cares for -- another person he cares for, but he quickly shoves any memories of his past well down into the furthest corners of his mind that he can -- the fact that they had taken Lancelot without any provocation other than his position. From the streets not that far outside his home...?

Oh yes, that had Faolan thinking about the vampires alright. And just what to do about the situation. Because something must be done. They can't continue on now as they had, not after this. Faolan doesn't care if he has a bias on the matter. They had their chance to do this peacably, and now Hillingdon will make them pay.

The question, of course, is how. A question that Faolan sits in his office contemplating for hours on end. And that should be where he is, if anyone should happen to be looking for him...

Edited 2016-09-04 15:10 (UTC)

After his conversation with Daryl, Faolan's mind is spinning, and he knows he needs to work this out with someone else. He thinks of Lancelot, but he knows that while Lancelot's advice might help more towards actually bringing this idea into reality, he knows he needs to address it within Hillingdon first. And he can think of no one more qualified to address it with than Arthur. A man who has not only been his confidant as far as his discomfort with the vampires is concerned, but also has worked his way up within the ranks of Hillingdon to become something of a leader of the hunters.

He hasn't heard from Arthur since before recent developments, but he figures that he should know about them as well if he doesn't already, and so it is with determination that Faolan sets out to locate the other man. It will be good to talk this out with someone who wasn't just involved in the rescue raid. Just in case this is more of a kneejerk reaction to that than he thinks it is.

Edited 2016-09-04 15:10 (UTC)

Faolan's mind is all but made up but he knows better than to go behind the clan's back and make a decision for them. Especially given his relatively shaky status with them, since the reveal of his status as a Guardian in the Night Council. He needs them to understand why this is a good idea, and he needs it to be their idea too, before he can go through with it.

And so it is that Faolan calls a Hillingdon Clan Meeting together. One of the only meetings they have had in the last while. Gathering all who attend together in the dining room and setting as many chairs around the large table and about the edge of the room as he can, to give everyone the opportunity to attend that he can.

When the meeting starts, Faolan is not sitting at the head of the table but rather in the middle of a side. A deliberate move, to demonstrate that at least in his mind, he is not holding himself in as high a position as the head of the table might imply. He glances around the room at those in attendance before he takes a deep breath and begins.

"I have called you all here today because I believe that we have something to discuss. A dilemma of which I'm sure we've all been aware for some time. Possibly longer than the city itself. But I also believe the state of things has reached a point where it cannot continue. Something must be done. And though Hillingdon has long sat out of the matters of the city, we are hunters. This is what we do. If ever there were a time for us to step up and defend what is ours, then I believe it to be now." He throws another glance around the room, gauging what reactions he's receiving across their faces before turning the question onto the people themselves.

"Hillingdon cannot stand against such a power such as we are. Thus we are faced with three choices. We may turn to our neighbors in battle, to try and take from Redbright for ourselves in a way that will put us on the playing board in a way we may not want to display ourselves. We may turn to them in peace, lending our expertise against this unifying threat in negotiation for more territory. More people. Or we may do nothing. And allow the vampires to continue their path of murder and destruction."

He allows another beat of silence, to let the three ideas sink in, before sitting straighter in his chair and continuing, "All those in attendance, I would welcome your opinion and your vote on the matter." And then he sits back to listen.

The vote has been cast, the general consensus and opinion has been shared. Faolan at once feels energized by the idea of this new direction they are taking, and also terrified by it. He recognizes what it will mean, to have to negotiate the final piece with Sylvia Redbright. He recognizes what a hold she has over him. And he recognizes what is at stake, not only if he should slip and counter her and find himself a statue in Sylvia's office, but also if he fails Hillingdon itself in this negotiation because he is, in the end, essentially at her mercy.

He spends the rest of the afternoon after the meeting contemplating the situation itself and how to approach it before, while going through his fifth possible 'worst case scenario' he knows that he has spent too long in his own head. Glancing up from the table he has found himself in the now almost-abandoned cafe and finding himself almost alone save for the waitstaff who continues to float around and attempt to refill his coffee, he realizes he needs to approach this differently. So after a moment he produces his phone and with another moment's thought, opens up a text to Lancelot:

Hey, are you working tonight?

Even after discussing it with Daryl, with Arthur, with Lancelot, and with the clan itself, Faolan is probably as prepared for this as he can be. Even still, as he makes his way to the appointed meeting place that he had arranged for with Sylvia and her underlings -- having stressed that this was strictly business between Hillingdon and Redbright and hoping that he will at least receive the appropriate treatment that a fellow faction leader should, instead of one of the many Guardians she had under her control -- as he makes his way to the appointed place he can't help but feel some sense of forboding. A sense that he can't quite explain.

He knows what Hillingdon is after. He knows what they are willing to give up to get it, and the line that they are not willing to cross. He's been a member of the clan itself long enough to have a pretty good grasp on what it is to belong to it, as much as a grasp on what it is to run the thing. But this is Sylvia Redbright. A woman who, as far as Faolan is concerned, seems to almost have a monopoly on the supernatural community of London itself. Whether she means to or not has yet to be seen.

All that Faolan knows is that he must be very careful here. And careful, while in his vocabulary, is not always an achievable concept as far as Faolan's reality is concerned...

Edited 2016-09-04 16:16 (UTC)

Say what they will, but the negotiation is done. Hillingdon has Hounslow, in exchange for their support of Redbright against Islington, on offense or defense. It is not, as Faolan will stress to whoever brings the word up to him, an alliance. Faolan is rather against the idea of any sort of blind alliance. It is an agreement against a common enemy. It remains to be seen how such an agreement will play out should said common enemy be placed under control, but that is neither here nor there.

For now, Hillingdon is to work with Redbright. And as such they need to know what it is that they are dealing with. Faolan encourages Hillingdon members into the territory, to seek out those of Redbright as an escort of sorts. Have the Redbright members show them the lay of the land. And if they should happen to be able to weedle information out of them about Redbright itself, then that is encouraged as well...

It's been two and a bit weeks since Lancelot's dramatic rescue, long enough that he's slowly getting up to speed again. His aches are starting to ease, his fears to dim, and he's on light duties at least while he gets back into things.

The text catches him by surprise, if nothing else because Faolan doesn't normally actually bother to text ahead, but he's glad of the warning if nothing else. It isn't like he's liable to say not to him after all.

Need something?

Is his response, because he's trying to gauge if he'll be going somewhere or cooking.

Daryl had been thinking about the vampire problem, too. And while he'd managed to kill a couple of them, his personal vendetta hunting hadn't really gone as well as he'd like. More needed to be done. Particularly with the Islington Nest obviously striking out beyond the bounds of their territory and not just for were's and shifters anymore. They were a danger to all hunters if they were going after Council Guardians so boldly.

It took him some time before he could figure out what he thought would be the best course of action. Took him more to get up the courage to barge into Faolan's office and bring it up. There was a big difference to him in telling the asshole off for being an asshole and acting like he knew what was best for the clan as a whole. If he'd been asked, he would have offered it up right away. But Daryl wasn't the kind of person to lead that many and as much as he was pissed about Faolan's continued double-duty loyalties... well, the man had been keeping the Clan where they wanted to be even with all the shifting issues in the last few months.

This time Daryl didn't slam the door open, he cracked open the door and knocked quietly on the frame, "Need to talk to you. Got some time?"

Daryl didn't really know anyone from Redbright except Natasha. But he'd been avoiding her because she was a vampire and he hadn't exactly had good relations with vamps lately. The one that had helped him out of the fighting pits he was okay with, of course. In theory. Same with Nat. But knowing that and feeling it in the moment when he was near a vampire? That was hard.

Still, he needed to learn the territory he was going to help defend and she was the only one he knew for sure was part of Redbright. Aside from Lance, who he assumed was probably still recovering.

So it was Natasha he called up after Faolan announced the successful negotiation. A gruff, hesitant (for him) message was left. Asking her to meet him for a patrol of Hounslow.

Natasha texts Daryl to confirm the plan. Sure, she'll be there on time. She hasn't heard from him for a while, but she's had other things to concern her too. She doesn't blame him for having other priorities—or for not wanting to talk to her, not with the state vampires were in.

But now it looks like they're on the same side officially, at least for now and against this particular enemy. She can fall in line. It helps that she'll be escorting someone she already knows.

That evening, she's waiting for him on time. Despite the heat, she wears a leather jacket and boots, arms crossed over her chest.

Daryl's dressed as he normally is. Checked flannel shirt with the sleeves hacked off. Leather vest over the top. Jeans with holes in the knees. The knives he had were concealed and his gun was hidden, too. Nothing to make him look like he was being illegal in anyway. Just a guy out to meet up with a girl.

He showed up on time, walking from the train station rather than on his bike. He didn't the territory enough yet to pick a spot to park it. And they'd be walking anyway.

When he saw her, his jaw tightened and he looked suitably abashed at not having contacted her in a while before he nodded at her in greeting.]

Hey.

It's a Saturday. So technically that's her day off from Redbright, but Presidents don't have weekends and her duties as Mother of Witches never end. Suffice to say that Sylvia doesn't really have weekends. She can't ever switch off. And this weekend she has a very important appointment. She knows roughly what it's about – discussing how to tackle the vampire problem with Faolan, who has been at pains to stress that he wants to talk to her in his capacity as Hillingdon Clan leader, not as a Guardian, and in her capacity as Chancellor of the Redbright Institute, not as President of the Night Council.

So now they all know what role they're playing, she invites him to her house.

And she invites Lancelot too. Because Sylvia always needs a bodyguard and who better than the Chief Guardian? Of course it has nothing to do with the fact that she knows he and Faolan are close friends, and that Lancelot could be a useful asset in ensuring that this conversation goes in her favour. That's just a bonus.

She has some of her grandchildren over today, but it's fine, the au pair is looking after them. They won't be disturbed. She ushers Faolan and Lancelot through to her living room, where a white cat looks up at them from a cushion on the couch and then promptly slips away, perhaps reacting to the scent of dog on Lancelot. If they want to take a look around, they might notice the pictures of Sylvia's family and a few of her closest friends from her coven. And the various artefacts on display, almost all of which are magical objects.

There's also tea, of course. The au pair comes in to serve it, adding milk or sugar as required. Sylvia thanks her before she departs, then settles in her seat to regard the two men.

"I hope you'll forgive the informal setting. It isn't often I get to spend time with my grandchildren."

'Spend time' obviously being a relative term. They're in the same house. It counts.

Sirius is of two minds in this debate.

On the one hand, something has to be done. While he's not fond of vampires on principle, the fact that they are running rampant in the city has made things doubly dangerous for Sirius. On the other, he reintegrated himself with Hillingdon because it tended to stay out of the way in these matters, and thus could be a place of safety. And it was hard to say which route was better at this point.

"I can't say I'm fond of the first option, but what would the second option, with the negotiating, look like?"

Given that Sirius is still considered a criminal at large, he's reluctant to blindly team up with random Redbright members. That, he figures, could go south in a number of different ways that he didn't want to experiment with. So instead, he's opted for a different method.

Currently in his dog form, he's hanging out around the area, figuring he'll just wait for another team or pick someone at random and follow them. It would accomplish something similar, right? At least in terms of getting to know the area.

He's really got to do something about this whole being wanted thing.

Edited 2016-09-04 23:07 (UTC)

If Sylvia is allowed a guard, as is Faolan. His choice of guard, however, is notably odd- Annie is skittish and could probably be blown over by a particularly strong gust of wind. But she's deadly if she needs to be, and she's hoping it won't go that way. This was needed. She didn't like the idea of trusting Redbright- she was a witch, and that was more than enough for Annie, but the fact remained: Hillingdon needed more territory if they were going to do anything about the vampires. So if that meant compromise, and hopefully far less blood-shed, Annie could go along with the idea.

She says nothing, when they arrive, keeping to herself, her hands clasped behind her back. If she didn't, they'd wind up in her hair, and that wasn't the sort of impression she wanted to give Redbright. Or the owner of Lily, whom she'd fallen absolutely in love with.

"You have, uhm a lovely home," Annie tries, her Irish accent always seems to get stronger around Faolan. Now sitting on the couch, she tries to take up as little space as possible, spare the cup and saucer on her lap, the tea highly sugared. Wait- was she not supposed to be speaking? Then just pretend she didn't say anything. She'll just sit here. And drink tea.

However informal the setting, Lancelot himself is technically on duty here and therefore acts the part. He's opted for a sort of halfway smart-casual approach to his dress sense, at least, white button-down shirt and black jeans, but he's alert -- even if he's also casually admiring the decor.

He doesn't sit, even if he hardly expects any trouble from Annie or Faolan, because sitting wold slow him down if he had to move. Instead he takes up a post within arm's reach of Sylvia, stands at parade rest and twitches Annie a half-encouraging smile at the way she sits and fumbles with her tea. She's nervous, and last he recalls she was nervous too actually -- and half arguing with him about vampires.

Lancelot doesn't say anything, though, because guard duty like this he considers a don't-speak-until-spoke-to situation himself. For better or worse.

Faolan winces at the fact that Lancelot's asking such a question right off the bat. He hopes that the other man understands what he means for him, despite the fact that he does lean on his support as much as he does. He orchestrated his rescue after all, surely that has to prove that he's not only in this for his own personal gain -- right?

He contemplates how to phrase his response a few minutes before typing back:

Your company

and swiftly deletes that before he can accidentally send it. When he finally hits send, his reply to Lancelot is:

I'd like to talk to you about something, if you're free?

Natasha isn't sure exactly how to feel about all this, but she keeps her misgivings to herself. She can see the political advantage in it and where the necessity comes from.

It just feels like this is only the beginning of headaches for her.

She makes herself available, offering to escort Hillingdon members and helping out where she can. When things start heading south—and they will, she sees where this is pointing—she wants to know who's on her side and she wants them to know that they can trust her.

"Hey," she responds. She can read his expression, but she's not sure exactly what it means. Even without knowing the specifics, though, she can guess at the gist.

"Long time no see," Natasha says rather than ask for the details. "I was thinking we might pick up some coffee? Get it to go, for the walk."

Coffee. He could do coffee.

Daryl nodded, lips pressing together as he did so. He got up to her and fell in step beside her figuring he'd follow her lead. If she was thinking of it, she probably had a place picked out. He stayed quiet for a bit, just walking along beside her, occasionally glancing up to watch her before letting his eyes drift back to the street.

Eventually he grunted out, "Sorry."

Faolan's actually surprised by such a greeting from the other man, given the recent history of his entrances. He glances up from where he's been staring at the various reports of vampire attacks spread across the desk before him and shuffles them away, gesturing Daryl inside.

He figures he owes the other man for helping him save Lancelot. Figures he owes him a lot more than just a listening ear. But short of that... He isn't certain what else there is to give, really. Neither of them are particularly affectionate people.

"Yeah, sure," he says, gesturing the other man inside and towards the chair opposite himself. "What's up?"

Faolan hopes that Sylvia can forgive him for not asking permission to bring a guard. It's only fair -- she has one herself, after all. And while the choice is a bit odd, it's also somewhat deliberate on Faolan's part. Annie reminds Faolan of himself, a little. Her past with the vampires. (Her Irishness...) He knows that she spoke of seeking revenge once, and he knows that she's not the biggest fan of the system in general. But he also knows that she trusts and supports him. He knows that she was there for him when he needed her to be, and that despite how young she is, she kept her head in the face of Faolan's own personal drama. He trusts her to be discrete and non-threatening, and those are some of the many reasons that Faolan has chosen Annie to come along.

Also because it will be helpful to have a witness. To remind Sylvia of their place as leader to leader. Even if, in truth, there is still the contract, that binds him to his loyalty to her as President and leader of the Night Council. That is neither here nor there, he supposes.

Lancelot's presence is something of a surprise but then again he should have expected that as well. Head Guardian as he is, and Sylvia can't have let it slip her notice that they are friends. Faolan would rather shoot himself than harm Lancelot, and Lancelot would hold his duty first and foremost above all. It's a good choice, even if it leaves Faolan frowning about it.

Faolan is awkward about the tea. This isn't the first time he's been served tea at a private meeting with Sylvia Redbright, after all. Though he supposes this is the first time he is and he's not being told off while it's happening. At least, it's a rare occasion when they're meeting and he's not in trouble for something or another. (Yet.) He fidgets with his own cup but doesn't quite take a sip yet. He's had enough mishaps with magical tea to be wary of all such drinks from strangers, even from Sylvia Redbright herself.

"Not at all," Faolan replies, in his own lilting Irish way. "It's a Saturday. I appreciate you meeting with me like this on such short notice. Especially given the time of year, with classes..." He's trying to be on his best behavior, really he is.

Daryl entered and quietly shut the door behind him, polite as a properly raised Southern boy should be. Not that Faolan probably had much experience with proper Southern manners. Daryl only really displayed them when he was feeling contrite and there weren't exactly a plethora of Southern boys and girls among London's supernatural community.

He didn't sit down, though. He started to pace the way he usually did. Slower, still a bit agitated, but not in that angry stalking stance that emphasized the feline in his blood. One hand came up to his mouth and he started chewing on his thumb nail, gathering his thoughts.

"We been fence-sitting the last couple months. Had that meeting when the Nest made their new laws, but we ain't done much but keep to our own since then," he started off slowly. "Open season's been declared, sure, but we ain't really done nothing to protect no one. Even our own."

"For what?" Natasha keeps her eyes ahead for the most part. She knows how shy Daryl can be and she doesn't want to make him feel on the spot. She's content to lead the way. She does have a place in mind—somewhere open late. The students spend a lot of time there, leeching the shop's wifi.

"Last I check, you didn't ow me an apology for anything." Could be there was something she doesn't know about, but Natasha doesn't think that is all that likely.

"Ain't been around," he answered softly with another shrug. Of course, the same could be said of her. But Daryl had it in his head it was up to him to call her, not the other way around. And since he hadn't, since he'd been avoiding that, it was on him to apologize.

HOUNSLOW TERRITORY CLAIM

Closed to Daryl; Tuesday, August 30th

Closed to Arthur; Tuesday, August 30th - later

Closed to Hillingdon; Thursday, September 1st

Closed to Lancelot; Thursday, September 1st - evening

Closed to Sylvia (& Guards); Saturday, September 3rd

Closed to Hillingdon & Redbright members; Sunday, September 4th & onward

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For Natasha

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