[OPEN] It's a kind of magic

[reticence]

[ooc info: faolan has just gained a new metahuman power and he doesn't know how to process it. cue him feeling like he's going crazy! :')]

A. ON THE STREET
When Faolan woke up this morning, he hadn't anticipated there being anything all that different about the day. Truth be told, he didn't have any plans besides work, and thus as he dragged himself out of bed and towards the coffee machine in his kitchen that Lancelot had given him, he was already somewhat bored with it.

It was once he left the house, his Mr Grumpy mug full of coffee in hand to prepare him for the train ride in, that the city seemed to get a little more exciting. More exciting than really it should have been, for that matter. The first time he'd bumped into someone on the street that he had recognized as a witch and felt the brush of a cat against the back of his legs and the smell of burning sage, he had thought he just hadn't woken up enough yet. Too suggestible to the stimulations around him.

After the third time passing by a spot and getting a flash of sensation, accidentally jostling into another person and hearing things that no one else could, Faolan is well and truly spooked, and he looks it too. He doesn't know what's happening, but this isn't natural. Not for him at least. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought he was sensing ghosts, hauntings, but that can't be right either. Not unless there's something big and nasty following him around specifically.

B. HILLINGDON HOUSE
By the time Faolan gets to Hillingdon House, he makes a beeline up to his office where he intends to hide for the rest of the day. In the quiet of that particular space, it seems whatever this mysterious malady he had been afflicted with on the commute in seems to have abated. That is, until he has to look up a record for a file he is working on and stepping into the basement where they keep their paper files, nearly passes out from the combination of smells, sounds, and senses threatening to overwhelm him.

The file he was working on abandoned and forgotten on the table at the bottom of the stairs, Faolan manages to make his way back up and into the kitchen, where he slumps against the counter and struggles to collect himself. Water, he should get himself a glass of water. He glances at the water faucet, suddenly afraid of even attempting something so mundane as that.

C. LANCELOT'S [CLOSED]
Faolan doesn't know quite how he makes it through the rest of the day, but he does. He thinks about calling someone, a taxi perhaps, to get a ride home direct, but what if he's stuck with something there in the cab with him the whole time. He finds himself jumping at shadows as he makes his way to the train, uncertain whether what he's seeing or hearing is really there or a figment of his imagination. No, not his imagination -- of whatever it is that has come over him like this.

Unsurprisingly, Faolan is not paying attention to his commute, working on autopilot and seeming on the edge of a panic attack the whole train ride over. It isn't until he's stepped off the train and onto the platform that he realizes he hasn't taken himself home, but to the station near Lancelot. Clutching his bag close to his shoulder, he contemplates turning around and getting back on, but the promise of a listening ear and perhaps even a comforting embrace is too great and has him making his way away from the station towards Lancelot's flat.

He can only hope, Faolan thinks to himself, as he spooks himself on the walk over and winds up nearly running the rest of the way to the other man's front door, that the other man is home.

Comments

[knightscode]

There's a scrabbling of claws on hardwood and a short bark of alert as Lily rushes to be first to the door, then the sound of Lancelot's lilting voice on the phone in what is decidedly not English. He's got one hand on Lily, one holding the door open and the phone balanced between his shoulder and cheek. His loose, white sweatshirt has a large watercolour effect pawprint on it and his jeans are faded and a little worn through on the knees.

He blinks at Faolan, offers a smile after a moment and inclines his head as he backs up to let him in.

There's another quick flurry of conversation, which includes Faolan's name somewhere in it, then Lancelot is hanging up the phone and pushing the door closed behind Faolan while Lily circles him excitedly.

There's a drooled on, slightly worse for wear but familiar green soft toy in her mouth that she's trying to present in the hopes of it being playtime.

"Hey!" Lancelot says finally, hanging up the phone and tugging a water bottle from the fridge. "You didn't say you'd be coming or I'd have had something ready."

Food, it's always food.

[reticence]

Faolan shuffles inside at Lancelot's bidding, honestly surprised that he doesn't seem as much of a mess as he feels. Or maybe he does, but maybe it's all that different from his normal state, such that Lancelot doesn't notice at first. Does he always seem unstable to the other man, he wonders helplessly, just in time to catch his name in Lancelot's conversation.

He bends over in the attempt to placate Lily and give himself something else to focus on besides the stream of questions running through his head -- what's happening, what's wrong with him, who was that and how much do they know -- but the decision doesn't end up the wisest of choices. As soon as he ruffles his hand through her fur in the attempt to get her to relinquish her prize, he hears barking. Barking...that sounds strangely like talking? Or attempting to. He stares at Lily for a long moment and then glances up at Lancelot. Who seems to have ended his phone call and -- had he said something to him just now?

"I..." Faolan struggles to find anything to say to explain himself.

[knightscode]

The pause and the way he trails off is cause enough for concern, and Lancelot frowns as he takes a sip of the cold water -- re-caps the bottle and sets it down so he can pace over to Faolan.

"Faolan?" he prompts, and reaches out a hand to run down the man's arm carefully. "Is everything all right?"

Is he sick? Has something terrible happened?

[reticence]

Faolan shivers as the other man reaches out to touch him, and it isn't because of the touch itself (though there have been times admittedly where Lancelot's attentions had sent shivers through his body). It's because through that touch, he can feel Lancelot's fae magic, as if the sun had just come out from behind a cloud. But on top of that sensation of warmth, he catches hints of other things, which make little sense to him as he stands safe in Lancelot's living room. A flash of fear, the snap of jaws. And other things, sounds, voices, people that he does not know and can't understand.

He lets out a shuddering breath and then it registers to him that he is standing mute in front of the other man after having shown up to his flat with no explanation at all. Is everything alright, he asks, and Faolan can only shake his head in response to the question. "I..." He tries again, glancing at the other man, his dark eyes wide and perhaps even a little frightened, "I don't know what's happening. I feel. I feel as though I'm losing my mind..." It would hardly be the first time in front of the other man, he thinks bitterly to himself.

[knightscode]

That's definitely a no, then. Without much else to go on Lancelot is hard pressed to work out if this is illness or midlife crisis, though. He loops one arm around Faolan to hold him a little closer, trying to ease his fears with the reassurance of touch.

"Sit with me," he murmurs, "tell me what happened."

Then Lancelot is gently coaxing Faolan to walk with him over to the futon, Lily following and fussing in front of it as Lancelot toes off his shoes and tries to arrange himself so Faolan can lean into him as much as he wants. Lily hops up a few seconds later and stands nearly on top of them, tail swishing as Lancelot repeats hey, Lily no, come on, sit down girl until she finally backs up a little and flops beside them.

[reticence]

Faolan allows himself to be led to the offered seat. At least the flash of sensation is over -- for now. He wonders whether it will keep getting it every time Lancelot lets go and touches him again. Every time he touches him. He starts a little as Lily jumps up to stand on them and he gets another flash of barking, but it's briefer this time, luckily. It takes him a moment, longer than it normally would have, but he finally settles against Lancelot's side, tipping his head to rest it on the other man's shoulder as he forces himself to take a breath and calm down.

"I don't know what happened," Faolan admits. "I just woke up this morning and... Now I'm seeing things that aren't there. Feeling things that aren't really happening. I..." He turns his face into the other man's shoulder as he mumbles, "I swear that Lily was just trying to talk to me. This isn't normal."

bless his poor heart. clearly what he needs is some gentle bullying in A.

[ghoulaid]

Ghoul has gotten accustomed to being the one slamming in to people. It's been an issue for him every since he's been here, but today, he's almost pleasantly surprised to find himself not at fault on this one.

The guy knocking in to him catches him just enough off guard that, had they not been about the same size, the bump could have sent Ghoul stumbling off the curb and in to traffic. So, really, who can blame him for sounding pissed? "What the fuck?"

He's all puffed up and ready to rip in to the one responsible for his almost-possibly-near-death-experience, but once he levels a glare on the man's face and registers the weird expression he's wearing, Ghoul deflates a bit. "Uh, what the fuck?" The phrase is repeated, although this time it sounds much less accusing and much more questioning. Concerned, almost. The guy looks pretty startled. "What's the deal here?" He takes a quick look around, thinking maybe he's missed something big. "Something jump up and bite you, or what?"

CLEARLY HAHAHA

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't have a lot of experience with werewolves, such that just by the other's proximity, he can't tell just by looking at him what exactly he is. But, he can sense something other about him. And accidentally having bumped into him, he had suddenly heard a lot of growling, snarling, and howling. He glances around, still uncertain that there isn't some wild dog about, but he sees nothing. Just this (rather irate) young man in front of him.

"I... Sorry," Faolan stutters at him, not quite certain that there is a way of explaining himself here. He only hopes that whoever this kid is, that he doesn't recognize him for who he is. Faolan, Guardian of the Night Council, Head of Hillingdon House, and apparently now a budding madman to boot.

[ghoulaid]

Luckily for Faolan, his face is completely unfamiliar to Ghoul. Hell, even if he rattled off his entire title it wouldn't matter. It's all Greek to him, anyway- there are a lot of weird titles and factions for him to learn around here, and while he may be pretty good at studying, it's the lack of motivation that holds him back.

As far as Ghoul is concerned, Faolan's just another oddball losing his shit on the street. It feels almost unfair to yell at him when he's looking around all paranoid like that, so he sighs loudly and tries a more mild approach. "You on a bad trip?"

Evidently his idea of mild is to imply this Very Important Guy is a hard drug user. It's not like he knows any better, gosh.

[reticence]

"What? No," Faolan insists quickly. Being a Guardian isn't quite the same as an officer of the law in the regular sense of the word, but he knows better than to do any sort of drugs these days. And he doesn't think he's given anyone the opportunity to slip him anything. He hopes not, anyway.

Of course, there's no easy way to describe what it is that is happening. How do you tell a random guy on the street that he's hearing things because he'd bumped into him? That would hardly go over well either.

"Who are you?" he decides to settle on instead. Because 'what are you' had been just there, on the tip of his tongue.

[ghoulaid]

He doesn't look all that convinced, but rather than needle this guy over his probable secret drug habits, Ghoul's quickly crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. Something about the way Faolan asks about his identity makes him feel weird. Like he's in trouble or something, but that makes no sense. He hasn't even done anything here yet. Nevertheless, he answers with a stony, "Nobody. Who the fuck are you?"

The idea that he's actually being asked what he is doesn't even cross his mind, because this guy's a regular human, right?

Hardly. Too bad that's what he smells like.

[reticence]

Faolan would be nearly flattered to know that he still smells like a human, considering he's starting to feel less and less like one. Present situation point in case.

He pulls a face at the other man in turn, uncertain that he should really answer, all things considered. What sort of picture would he be painting himself into if he admitted to the fact that he was a faction leader, not to mention a Guardian, and he was stumbling about on the street looking like... A drug addict, apparently.

He shakes his head and takes a step back and away from the other man. "Obviously no one to you," he replies, which is obviously true.

B

[constantprisoner]

It's at this point that Sirius makes his way into the kitchen. He'd been intending to check the list he'd set up for groceries, wondering if it was time to make another run to the store. He pauses when he sees Faolan and is about to say something when he catches the funny look on the other man's face. He follows his gaze to the sink, and has to pause and thinking for a second. Had he done anything to the sink?

A brief run down of his actions in the past few days says no, and he's fairly certain that the sink receives enough use that any trap he might have set, purely for comedic reasons mind you, would have been sprung already. So it was wasn't that.

"Everything alright? Something happen to the sink?"

[reticence]

If Faolan ever finds out that Sirius is setting pranks on hapless members of Hillingdon House, well. He'd not reprimand him exactly. He'd certainly remind him that anything illegal would get both of them in trouble though.

But no, it isn't the sink, and startled out of his previous thought process, he turns to Sirius, looking vaguely confused as to why he'd ask before he starts to put the pieces together before shaking his head.

"No, I... No. It's fine. I think. I just." He swallows. "I think I need some water." He doesn't make a move to step forward and touch it though.

[constantprisoner]

Sirius nods, and heads in to complete the task he was going to do earlier. Eventually, however, he looks up to see that Faolan hasn't moved. Which is odd.

"Are you going to get some then?"

[reticence]

Faolan looks up at Sirius, realizing he's addressing him again. Realizing he's still standing there, where he had been since the last time the other man had done so. If he were feeling better, he'd be a bit more embarrassed about that, but there's clearly something wrong with him, so for the moment he's got nothing to be sorry for.

"I..." Faolan says, before forcing himself to stand up straight. There can't be anything wrong with the sink. It's just a sink. It provides water. It...

Faolan wonders still whether there are any water bottles in the fridge. Who knows how long that sink has been there, who knows how many people have touched it. What will he experience if he touches it himself. How many other things must he suddenly be ridiculously concerned of coming in contact with.

[constantprisoner]

It's definitely odd, and Sirius is not entirely sure what to make of it all.

"Do you want me to get it for you?" he asks, finally, although he's also wary. Could someone else have done something to the sink? Was there a trap waiting for be sprung? Not that he minds being the guinea pig and does owe Faolan quite a bit.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're acting really weird."

A

[knowntohisfriends]

The Artful Dodger is always found out and about on the streets of London. It's a rare day that he's not and those are to be avoided as much as he possibly can. Still, he's hard at his work, carefully picking out his marks and either tailing or lifting what he can. He's also taking enough time to just enjoy himself. It's not raining and the cold ain't too bad.

He might bump into people, and those people may later find stuff missing, but that's all a bit of fun, right?

[reticence]

Faolan is both watching where he's going and he isn't. It's perhaps because he's trying to avoid walking into so many people that he winds up walking into others. And as luck would have it, stepping aside to try and stay away from a woman with a large bag veering out towards him, he gently shoulders the kid instead.

His first impression is sunlight. Or maybe not sunlight, maybe it's just warmth. Warmth and something else? The sound of laughter? And the brush of fingers in his pockets, though looking down at the kid, he can't be sure whether that was real or imagined in the end. While he's looking spooked from the rest of it, it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Hey," he says, sharply, "didn't I catch you hanging about the shops earlier?" At Christmastime, if Faolan's shaky brain is putting the pieces together in the correct way. Still, he looks far more shaken than he should for this conversation.

[knowntohisfriends]

The Dodger stops in his path, turning round with a clear expression. Always act innocent if caught, an' make sure you kept control of the situation, that was what Fagin taught them all. Didn't always work, but that was their life.

"Might have done," he answered. "Christmas havin' been an' all that. Had people to get gifts for."

[reticence]

Faolan makes a face at him that clearly suggests he has a fair idea just how he was procuring those gifts for people, but he's not the police, and he's not about to report him to them either.

"Just. Don't try anything, okay?" Faolan says, after a pause. "I'm not. It's not been a very good morning." To put it mildly.

[knowntohisfriends]

The Dodger frowns. "You alright, mate?" Because he's not completely without care of other people, and there's something about the way Faolan speaks that makes him think maybe the guy's had a bit of a time of it.

B

[dirtyredneck]

Finding Faolan when he wasn't in his office like Daryl expected, led him on a strange little journey to the basement, where he found a file covered in the man's scent, and back upstairs to the kitchen. Where he looked like he was about to be sick in the sink.

Brows, creasing, he came up next to the man and set the file on the counter just hard enough to make a slapping noise and catch the man's attention.

"You okay?"

[reticence]

Faolan jerks slightly at the sudden appearance of the other man, not only because he's surprised by the sound of the file slapping down on the counter beside him, but because along with it comes of a deep, rolling, feline growl and the feeling of a smallish, furry body brushing up against the back of his legs.

His eyes widen slightly and he tries to keep from looking as though someone's just walked over his grave, but it's difficult, and he isn't quite certain he's succeeded in the end, given Daryl's questioning in the first place.

"I..." He starts to say, before trailing off. He turns his eyes down to the sink in front of himself, running a hand over his face in turn. "If I told you that I was, would you believe me?"

[dirtyredneck]

"No," he answered after a moment and shook his head. "You got a hangover or something? I can grab you some painkillers."

Daryl scratched absently at his chest before reaching over to open a cabinet and pull out a glass, "Scoot for a second. Get you some water. You can go back to hovering over the sink in a second. Just hold in anything that tries to come up for half a minute, okay?"

If Faolan was going to be throwing up, he should at least have a cup of water to clear his throat out between heaves.