undergrounds | [OPEN] It's a kind of magic

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[OPEN] It's a kind of magic

[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.

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"That's true," he says quite seriously, and he appears to frown a moment in thought. "Of course, if it's upsetting you then perhaps I should stop. I would not want to be the cause of any problems for you, you must know that. Perhaps we should sit further apart, too, just in case."

He moves to push at Faolan gently again, as if aiming to dislodge him so they can sit opposite sides of the futon.

Faolan's eyes widen again, although this time the expression is more honest on his face as his arm tightens again around Lancelot's waist. In all honesty, he doesn't truly think that the other man would do such a thing, but it makes him nervous even to hear it mentioned.

"Let's not get carried away with ourselves," he says, quickly. "What's done is already done, and besides." He flicks a smile up at the other man as he clings to his side, his voice acquiring another gently lilting, sing-songy quality as he continues, "Please don't take my sunshine awayyyyy--"

The smile takes over Lancelot's features again easily and he stops pushing at Faolan, shifts to lounge with him more comfortably.

"Well, if you're going to ask so nicely who am I to refuse? You can have all the sunshine you like."

He tugs Faolan to press closer, turning his face into his hair affectionately.

"Especially if you're going to continue to serenade me."

Faolan turns his face against the other man's chest and huffs a soft breath out. If that is really all the whole day has been, the further development of his abilities brought on by his continued proximity to Lancelot's Seelie magic, then he supposes it's not nearly as bad as he had thought. Still slightly unnerving, especially given some of the things he had experienced -- it wasn't all sunshine and dogs barking, after all -- but certainly such an explanation is better than anything else Faolan had been considering all day.

"Oh, so now you like me singing to you?" he asks, with the quirk of a smile, nuzzling his face against Lancelot's ridiculous sweatshirt as he does. "First you're threatening to toss me off the futon if I do, now you're giving me incentives to keep going?"

"Song choice could use some work, but you're not bad. Besides which, it isn't as if I'm serenaded often. I have to take what I can get."

Lancelot squeezes Faolan a little, trying for reassurance.

"Starting to feel better?"

About everything, about his visions of sort. It is why he'd been here, after all. Lancelot hasn't forgotten that, he's just carefully not focusing too hard on it.

"I'll make a note of that for next time," Faolan replies, with the quirk of a smile.

He settles further against Lancelot's side as the other man squeezes him closer and inquires about how he's feeling. He forces himself to take a deep breath and really take stock of things before he replies.

"Yeah," he says, "I. If that's really what this is... I suppose that it makes sense, in a way. It's just that." He squeezes his arm tighter around the other man for a moment, as he considers how to phrase it, before explaining, "A lot of bad things have happened in the city. Magically, I mean. I wasn't prepared to be able to see, hear, and feel them all when I woke up this morning, that's all."

Edited 2017-01-16 21:41 (UTC)

"A lot of bad things that aren't magical have happened too," Lancelot answers, and he gently toys with Faolan's hair for a moment. "But I understand. It's the same thing I feel sometimes. Like when you showed me that head and I made your office float. Remember that?"

He somehow doubts Faolan would forget a severed head, but some of the contextual things he might -- like Lancelot's alarmed attempts to describe what he was sensing from it.

Faolan pauses for the briefest of moments before offering the other man a small nod.Yes, he remembers when Lancelot had offered to help him with the case with the severed head. He remembers how the office had begun to float around them, as the other man had grown more and more disturbed by what he had sensed off of the thing. But he had not thought... Well, he supposes in retrospect it makes sense to connect that moment between what he had been experiencing all day. But he hadn't, not until Lancelot mentions it himself, that is.

"I went down into the basement, where we keep our records," he offers, by way of explanation. "To fetch something related to a file I was reviewing. I thought I was going to pass out, there was just so much..." He trails off, trying and failing to think of how else to describe himself before settling on, "There was too much."

"The basement of Hillingdon House?" He prompts, and his face scrunches up a little. "I know basements have a reputation, but I hadn't thought yours would have seen so much action."

Although, he supposes if they don't just keep paperwork down there. Perhaps items related to the cases? Perhaps they even have to chain up a werewolf on occassion, or a suspect. Lord knows what previous hunters have done, sometimes the rules appear to exist only to be broken with extreme prejudice. He smooths Faolan's hair absently while he thinks.

"There might be a way to... cleanse it, is that a real thing?" He wrinkles his nose. "Psychics are always talking about cleansing things, I think, but I admit I have no idea if there's any truth behind the idea."

"It's the basement of a den of hunters," Faolan says, reiterating everything Lancelot had just considered himself. "Not to mention everything hanging around the artifacts held there themselves. It's... A bit much to handle. Especially this morning, when I wasn't certain what it was I was experiencing in the first place."

He settles further against the other man's side, leaning into the hand in his hair as he contemplates Lancelot's words. A cleansing... He's heard of such a thing himself as well, but. "Do you think it would work?" he asks, turning his head to glance up at the other man in turn. "I can't be so overwhelmed by my own basement I never set foot down there again. Not unless I hire someone to fetch records for me or something."

"You could do that, or... you could hire a witch and try the cleansing. I have no idea if it would work, I've never tried. If it doesn't help, hiring someone could always be a back-up plan?"

He shrugs, presses his face into Faolan's hair and tries to think. Does he know any witches who might offer such a thing? It's... difficult to say. Nancy might, but Lancelot suspects she might be reluctant to do it for Faolan. Someone in Daybreak might, though, if he can find someone who isn't too bothered by the concept of Hillingdon or hunters in general.

Faolan nods slightly, contemplating it. Truth be told, aside from Siobhan, he's never really had all that much dealings with witches. It honestly wouldn't have occurred to him, contemplating this on his own, to cleanse the area. Perhaps it's not so bad that Lancelot is associated with Daybreak after all, he thinks to himself, privately.

"If you have any recommendations for someone who might be able to do something like that for me," Faolan says. "I'd welcome them. I can't let just anyone into the basement of our secret base, after all," he adds, wryly.

"I'm sure I can find someone," Lancelot assures him, and leans around to press a kiss to Faolan's cheek. "I'd do it myself if I could, but all I'd manage is to make is all float and cause a mess. Which might at least make it harder to get into."

Although maybe be a touch less practical, but that is why he's offering to find a witch after all. Lancelot knows a lot of his slightly wild fae magic is far from practical.

Faolan leans into the kiss, unable to help but smile at the thought of Lancelot trashing the basement with his telekinesis. "It might make it harder to get into," he agrees. "Though I doubt the rest of Hillingdon will be as grateful for such help, I'm sorry to say."

Faolan turns to regard the other man for a moment, studying his expression from as close as they're sitting, grateful again for the fact that he doesn't get flashes of Lancelot's magic every time they touch. He'll probably have to figure out the way it works, but for now. He'll revel in the fact that he has the time to do so. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to the other man's lips, before leaning his forehead against Lancelot's.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"Mmmm?" He closes his eyes against the kiss, keeps them that way as Faolan leans into him. "I haven't done much, but if you're intent on thanking me who am I to stop you?"

Don't mind him, he'l just carry on soaking up all this attention and affection. He's absolutely fine with that.

"Did you eat? I've nothing prepared, but I can make something if you're hungry."

Faolan huffs out a breath of a laugh at the question and shakes his head slightly, his forehead still pressed against Lancelot's as he does.

"I haven't," he admits, sheepishly. "You don't have to, we can order takeaway if you'd rather. I know that you weren't expecting..." To have to cook for two. Not that this is the first time that he's just stopped by unannounced, of course, but he's been at least trying to make more of an effort to plan ahead these days.

"Or..." he says, after a moment's consideration. "I... Could help?"

He lets his eyes flutter open finally and studies Faolan, shifts to sit up a little straighter.

"You could. I'd still have to decide what to make first, though. How hungry are you? If you're in the mood for something now is the time to say."

Since he generally has enough basic ingredients to come close to most things if not exactly match the recipe.

Faolan shakes his head slightly, smiling sheepishly as he does. "I dropped in unannounced," he says. "The last thing I'm about to do is start making demands of you. I have already demanded your company in the first place."

He shifts to sit closer, moving to rest his hand on Lancelot's chest, gently curling his fingers against his sweatshirt as he offers the other man a gentler, more private smile and continues, "And you have provided it admirably."

"I think you're easily pleased."

Not that he minds. He leans over and rubs his cheek against Faolan for a moment before moving him off a little so he can get up.

"We can't cook from here, though. I could try, but I don't think I can move things accurate enough for that not to end in disaster."

Either a big mess or a fire or both, Lancelot thinks it best not to test which it will end up. Food isn't worth all that.

"Maybe I am," he replies. "Maybe it's simply that I already have what I want right here..."

He takes the hint though and moves to sit up and let Lancelot free. He'll still need some time to get used to this whole touch, proximity, magic sensation business. Perhaps he can use that as an excuse to stick close to the other man for a little, he thinks to himself, with a private smile, before shaking his head at Lancelot's words.

"Probably best not to try it then," he says. "I think I've had enough excitement for the day, without you throwing your cookware at me as well." He pushes himself up to stand and offers Lancelot a hand in turn. Not that he needs it, but Faolan likes having the excuse to touch just now.

He catches his fingers through Faolan's and gets to his feet, Lily jumping to hers in the process and escorting them both through to the kitchen.

"Well, you still haven't told me what you're in the mood for. I have some salmon, chicken, lamb... eggs obviously, if you'd rather none of the previous."

Reaching the fridge he tugs it open and leans against the wall beside it, drawing Faolan closer as he frowns at the contents.

"About the only thing I can't do is anything like a real paella, I haven't any shellfish. I could make you cazuela but... normally you'd marinate things, cook it slowly. So it might not be as good as before."

Faolan draws close as Lancelot bids him to, carefully shuffling in to fit against his side as he joins him in peering in at the contents of his fridge. Trying to recall what a paella was -- shellfish was a clue, he remembers a shellfish dish before, at Christmas? And cazuela, that was the one that he'd made him for his birthday last year, wasn't it?

"Salmon sounds good?" he says, after a moment's contemplation. He flicks his eyes towards the other man before leaning against him slightly. He has a feeling that Lancelot's idea of salmon isn't the same as his own though, which is fine. So long as it isn't too spicy, he's sure he'll love it.

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[OPEN] It's a kind of magic

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