Botching it in Bromley (Territory Claim)

[bellbound]

They've done their research. They know where the fae in Bromley are hiding out, their movements, their numbers. As far as intelligence gathering goes, it's not a bad effort. They have a plan too. This at least is an improvement over some past witches that Mogget could mention, though in his opinion the plan is rather crude. Samantha could get a lot more resistance than she bargained for.

Which, it turns out, is exactly the case. Of course, Mogget is the one on the ground with the other witches, trying to control a situation that swiftly spirals out of control. Samantha is nowhere to be seen; she gets others to do her dirty work.

He's not looking forward to telling her what went wrong.

[ooc: Planning post here, individual threads for each day below! Feel free to make your own subthreads and let me know if you have any questions!]

Comments

Thursday, 9th March: Evening

[bellbound]

On Thursday night, Mogget guides a few witches into the borough, where they create the first salt circles around key buildings that are known to house fae. It's quiet to start, as the Daybreak forces move into position.

Friday, 10th March

[bellbound]

The traps have been set. As the sun rises, more witches enter the borough, stationed in various circles around key areas. A signal is given and they simultaneously join hands to cast a spell, one that will prevent the fae from crossing into the Other Realm. Mogget feels the ripple of magic over his fur, the collar on his neck tightening for a moment that has him digging his claws into the ground.

Then it's done, the ripples settle down, and Mogget pads forward to the edge of the circle. "Send in the wolves."

OTA

[falsify]

This is another of those times where Eames feels he made the right call electing not to live in a Fae-held borough. That, and also why would anyone willingly live in Bromley. He doesn't know about it when the witches act, but word reaches him quickly.

There's another thing the mortals got right. Thank goodness for phones.

It's only a few hours between the call and his arrival at the town centre, an overnight bag slung across his body that's not packed with clothes and toiletries but weapons and a few bits and bobs that might well come in handy. (His magic has very few offensive applications, if he's honest. And part of him prefers it that way.) He's made his call to Jean-Claude, and he can feel it easily-- the magical undercurrent in the area that, well. He wouldn't exactly know what it did without having been told, but that doesn't matter a whole lot.

He sets off, moving about the fringes of the area in some attempt to find the anchor points of the spell and dismantle it, cloaked in a glamour that hides him from view. Making phonecalls as he does, telling the more sensitive fae (and friends) he knows to try and do the same thing.

[bellbound]

Part of Mogget's job is to seek out the fae that are good at disguising themselves. He has an eye for magical traps and creatures that are only pretending to be human. The cat is patrolling along the edge of the borough where one of the group of witches helped cast the spell when he feels some niggling disturbance in the magic around him.

He looks up, hackles raising. The street is quiet apart from one man cleaning his car and a couple of teenagers heading further up the road. All human as far as he can tell. Mogget turns his head this way and that, as if questing for some invisible thread in the air. Is there something here?

[falsify]

As mad at the witches as he is, (and boy is it a lot,) Eames is less interested in starting a fight than he is in undoing whatever it is they've done. Has his gun ready, but that's just in case some witch or other sees through the glamour and tries to start something.

In the meantime, he pauses once he starts to feel something stronger than the ambient magic in the air, like walking against the wind-- he suspects if he crossed to the next borough it'd be like there was nothing at all. He surveys the street for any obvious signs of magic, but he can't see anything just yet. Not unless someone's about to sacrifice one of those kids anyway.

Saturday, 11th March

[bellbound]

By this point it's clear that the spell to prevent fae from crossing into the Other Realm has failed. Mogget is guessing that Seelie or Unseelie interference ruined it; all it would take is one powerful fae who knows the name of a witch involved in casting the spell, and that tiny snag could disrupt the whole thing. But it doesn't matter. The witches are attempting to hold back the tide of escaping fae, freezing or trapping as many of them as they can while their allies (wolves and others) bring brute force to the table: running down escaping fae, bringing out the iron cages and capturing as many fae as possible.

The number they've actually captured is pitifully small. Mogget can't stand to be around the iron cages, however, and so he slips off to help with some of the individual targets. Like the shop Kunstkammer, with its Seelie proprietor.

for mogget

[ghoulaid]

Things aren't really going in their side's favor, but it's fine. Standing guard and chasing fae around a little is okay, whatever. It's only until after the cages come out that Ghoul realizes this isn't a normal attempt to overrun a territory, and boy, is he pissed.

He's storming through alleyways, keeping out of sight to prevent any witches from calling him over for help. As fucking if. His plan is to, perhaps, find a few wolves and nag them to leave with him until he remembers Lan's shop is here. Maybe they're planning on putting her in a cage too. With that in mind, he darts off towards her place.

On the way, he spots a salt circle around a tiny building- being full of spite, he slows long enough to kick through the salt as he passes by. He doesn't know whether it'll do anything and since he can hear voices around the corner he doesn't stick around to find out, but a few blocks later he comes across another. This one is quieter, maybe unguarded. He stops, looks around, and then crouches down by the circle. After a few seconds of squinting at it, he reaches out and swipes his palm across the ground a few times, creating a wide gap in the line. Fuck the police.

[bellbound]

Unfortunately, Mogget has also arrived on the scene and he sees Ghoul crouch down to disrupt the circle. Deliberate sabotage. There's no doubt about it. The cat stalks over to fix the werewolf with a look that is the feline equivalent of 'Gotcha'.

"I saw that. Breaking the circle when you thought no one was looking... Who are you working for?"

Clearly, it's not Samantha. Perhaps Katherine decided to hedge her bets and choose the fae after all. That would explain a lot.

[ghoulaid]

Ghoul's head jerks up, surprise written all over his face from being caught red-handed. Or salt-handed. Semantics.

Why is it always the fucking cat.

He sneers once the initial panic wears off, lifting his hand away from the ruined circle and shooing Mogget with it. "I guess for my fuckin' self, since this ain't what I signed up for." He really ought to shut his mouth, probably.

OTA

[thelittlemerman]

By the 11th, Finnick is actively working to dismantle the witches' movements into Bromley. He's not quite strong enough to fight too many of them head on, so instead he moves around the borough quietly with trident in hand, seeking out fae before they can be captured and telling them to flee. He's ready to fight if need be but he sticks to alleys instead and avoids Daybreak and their iron cages; he's no good to anyone in shackles he tells himself over the pounding fear and anger he feels when he sees them.

He dims his magic as much as he can when he's focused enough, but he can't hide from a magic-sensitive witch completely, so it's easier to keep his distance. He's not the most experienced prowler but he's paranoid enough to be half-decent.

[bellbound]

Mogget can recognise any fae on sight unless they're very well-cloaked, so when he spots the man with a trident in an alleyway he knows exactly what he is. And he's seen this one before, if he recalls correctly, at Imbolc. One of the Seelie, who wasn't so foolish as to give away his name.

"Seelie, northeast," he hisses from his vantage point on a nearby roof. "Your first left! He has a trident."

That's not for Finnick's benefit, but rather to alert a group of werewolves who are on the prowl hunting down escaping fae. They're carrying crowbars made of iron which is one reason why Mogget is staying well away from them. As one or two of the wolves peel off from the group to head around the corner in search of the trident-bearing fae, Mogget follows them from above, keeping pace with the hunt.

[ghoulaid]

Mogget is everywhere, and Ghoul needs to do his best to save his own ass. At this point, he's shut completely up and set himself on auto-pilot, quietly going wherever he's needed. As he rounds the corner with another wolf, his first thought is what the fuck is a trident?

His second thought, upon seeing their target, is fuck. He knows this one.

Mogget has eyes on them, though- aside from a dismayed knit of his brow, he keeps his face blank-enough and his mouth closed, grip tightening on the bar in his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck forever.

[injectablefame]

Party follows directions from Mogget and finds himself slipping into Finnick's current alley. If he gets here first, at least it's less likely that whoever it is won't wind up dead or in a cage. He's not expecting it to be anyone familiar, though. He really only knows a handful of Fae in town.

His shoulders slump a little on recognition and he lowers his iron crowbar. "Gotta get your ass outta here, man. Ain't gonna like what anyone else is gonna wanna do to you when they catch up."

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick senses the wolf before he hears him, but not early enough to slip away, so he turns to stand his ground before Party sees him. It really burns seeing people he knows, even if they're just low-ranking werewolves that he only met in passing, and his mouth twists in disgust like he's smelling Party's vomit all over again.

"I'm just trying to get my people out before they end up in cages," he says.

OTA (and also Mogget pls)

[injectablefame]

Party is everywhere in the fray, not because he really wants to win, but because he's using far less lethal methods and he's aiming to chase out more than capture. He doesn't like any of this and he's going to follow his orders, but if he can save a life or preserve someone's freedom, he's doing it.

Everything is so fast and chaotic that he figures no one will notice that he's purposefully chasing Fae out and that more than once, he pulls his strikes and slows his pace just enough to make sure that they're getting away from him instead of captured or killed.

He does his best to keep his head down and do what he can, but towards the end of the fighting, things settle around him and he starts to really notice all the filled cages. Something snaps in him.

"This ain't what I signed up for. We're gettin' you land, not pets. Can't just put people in kennels." He gestures at the nearest cage, trying to get the attention of anyone around. "This ain't right. It's just gonna keep us all divided!"

The words are out of his mouth before he can consider if it's a smart thing to voice, but he can't help it. There's a panicked, queasy feeling in his chest that he just has to do something about. He can't sit by and see all these things that are just so viscerally wrong to him. His emotions are all over the place, but mostly he's just mad that people can't get over all of this shit.

[bellbound]

Why is it always some loud-mouthed werewolf causing a scene for no reason?

"Considering a little sabotage?" asks an arch voice from somewhere near Party's feet. Not too near, because he doesn't like going near the cages, but Mogget is close enough to hear the outburst where the Daybreak witches are too busy trying to keep the trapped fae contained.

[injectablefame]

Party glares down at Mogget. "Been doin' your dirty work all day. That don't mean I'm okay with this shit."

His stance shifts and then he moves closer so that he can tower over the cat. It's not often that Party gets to use his size to intimidate anyone, but he's not above trying when he can. "How'd you like to be in one of those if they were attackin' you, huh?"

Sunday, 12th March

[bellbound]

It's over. The resident fae have either fled back to the Other Realm only to return later, or they have successfully broken out of their traps and driven the witches away. Mogget makes it his task to gather them up, flying between locations, sneaking past the most dangerous fae, and generally doing whatever he can to get Circle Daybreak out of there.

Samantha will want to know why they have failed. As the last witch runs into the Tube station to leave the area, Mogget sits on the wall outside and licks his paws, contemplating the story he's going to tell her. This setback won't stop her, he's certain of that. But perhaps he can convince her to be more cautious.

OTA

[falsify]

The witches haven't suffered many losses, at least Eames doesn't think so, and those they have can easily be chalked up to gang violence or bad food at a restaurant that'll conveniently vanish or some other thing. It's old hat at this point, sweeping the bodies under the rug and putting the boogiemen back in the wardrobe.

But this wasn't any old territory dispute, and maybe he finally has that proof he been looking for to point out what a fucking power-mad lunatic Samantha is, but that doesn't do anything for the disgust he feels at the cages. Iron cages. Fucking barbaric. Like they're circus animals from the 1890s who deserve to spend their time either in servitude or in agony.

He spends the day overseeing everything he can. The cages that were left behind are destroyed and sold for scrap, he has people checking up on missing fae to see if they were captured — though Eames suspects they made off with far, far fewer of them than Samantha would have liked. At one point he comes across the body of a dead witch, toes their wand away and squats down to check the pockets and take their phone. Peels his glove off so he can have a rifle through and check for anything of interest or use. Mostly he's getting a sense that somebody had an addiction to Bejeweled and its million variants.

Essentially he's currently subsisting on a nice and simple cocktail of rage and coffee.

for Evie

[falsify]

Well it's certainly been one hell of a clusterfuck, one that's left Eames in a much more sour mood than he was before, if that was even possible, but they still hold the area at least.

He has no interest in attacking fleeing witches, though he'll not step in if anyone else does, attention better spent on the postscript of this whole debacle. He also needs to make sure the vampires are behaving themselves-- most of them wouldn't go against Jean-Claude, not openly at least, but he can't expect them all to be happy about this. Or to use the carnage to take a snack or two.

So it's a bit of a relief, seeing the likes of Evie. Someone rational, by and large in control of herself. And with a not insignificant influence within Islington. Eames waves a hand in greeting as he approaches, waiting until he's close enough to speak quietly before he speaks at all.

"Dame Frye," he smiles in greeting, "I suppose thanks are in order."

[freelife]

Evie's here to help keep an eye on the vampires. She knows what it is to want a snack on the battle field, the iron filling your nose and lungs so it's all you can breathe and how it did nothing for your munchies. So here she was, trying to make sure Jean-Claude's orders were being followed.

She's noticed, however, as the witches escape, that their Mother is not amongst them. Curious, this woman who would command troops into battle and yet be nowhere to be found. It didn't do much to endear the new Mother of Witches to her, not in the slightest.

Evie makes a 'hats off' gesture towards Eames as she approaches him. She brushes his offer off. "No, think nothing of it. Are you alright?" Him, his friends. She had a soft spot for the older fae, after their time trying to take down Raymond.

12 March: Night

[outstandingbalance]

If Natasha wasn't happy when they took out Midnight, at least she had seen the benefit in it. She... let's say she respected the action, and the political stance which made it expedient. Natasha didn't have to like or agree with a plan of action to follow through on it.

This move against the fae, though, was different. It spoke to a much less measured stance. Even if she ignored the aggression and the grab for power, it was also just a mess. And a bald faced grab, particularly in retrospect, knowing what she did.

It's not lightly that Natasha, tired and frustrated, appears at Sylvia's office hoping to sneak in a meeting.

[brightwitch]

Sylvia is also tired and frustrated, so they have that in common. "Come in," she calls, after dismissing a gaggle of witches who have been fretting for hours about the events in Bromley. She should call Samantha, she knows, but that had better wait until morning when everyone has had a chance to cool off.

She's sitting in the little meeting area at the side of her office with her third cup of coffee in hand when Natasha enters. Sylvia takes a sip and then offers Natasha a tired smile. "So, how did it go?"

She suspects Natasha's report isn't going to be too positive, if the preliminary news they've been hearing is anything to go by.

[outstandingbalance]

"Not good. For anyone, really." The fae were winning, yes, but they'd also suffered an attack, and now they had to be aware the general shape of Samantha's plans for them—Daybreak in general's current direction. And Daybreak suffered an embarrassment just as much as a defeat. "The attack fell apart, but I don't think things are going to settle back down for a while."

[brightwitch]

She thought as much. Sylvia nods, gesturing for Natasha to come over.

"Would you like to sit down? I don't need a blow-by-blow account, but – well. How exactly did it fall apart?"