una nicnevin is not her real name (leannan) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-08-23 14:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | elliot rogers, una nicnevin |
Who: Elliot Rogers and Una Nicnevin
What: Who’s surveilling who?
Where: London, mostly Hyde Park
When: Afternoon of 13 August, 1888 [BACKDATED]
Ratings/warnings: SFW
Information like a Sidhe noblewoman deciding to marry into one of the Vampire Covens raises a lot of eyebrows, supernatural or otherwise. Modern inventions like the telegraph insures it spreads far and wide. Elliot had decided to investigate even before receiving the telegram from headquarters instructing him to dig into the matter, just in case it was related to the Vampires he was pursuing.
Her servants were all Fae near as he could tell, and thus extremely loyal to their mistress. He’d done some discrete sounding out of a few of them, just nibbling around the edges pretending to be a reporter and getting a feel for the situation. Nothing that should make them suspicious, and he never bothered offering payment Surveillance was easier for him to conduct than Christophe, who would tend to stand out and be more memorable than himself as long as Elliot kept his mouth shut.
So he’d been keeping a discreet eye on her the last two days, shadowing from a distance and noting where she went and who she met, who came and who went. Elliot was under no illusions he could fool a being that had been walking around since before the fall of the Roman Empire, but in his (admittedly short) experience with long lived species they tended to be set in their ways of thinking.
That someone was in pursuit of her, and that it was not a power that should immediately concern her, was known to Una. And while whoever it was, the one claiming to be a reporter, was not an immediate threat, it didn't mean that they wouldn't become one, or wouldn't report to someone who was. So Una took note of her shadow and, after a few days, decided to deal with the matter directly.
She set out in her carriage, letting her departure be a sight in public so the hound on her trail could follow her track with ease. Her instructions were to travel toward Caroline's lovely bathing pond at Hyde Park. But with a certain slowness so she could easily be caught up with, or if her tracker were intelligent enough, could divine her intent and be there ahead of her for her promenade by the waters. She would see, then, what the hunter would do.
It was suspicious as hell that she was going as slow as she was, but Elliot couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity either. So if it was a trap he would just have to spring it and hope for the best. Christophe would know if anything happened to him and his last general location, and would follow up to recover him alive or his corpse if already dead.
He was already at the Serpentine by the time the Lady’s carriage arrived, having paid a Hansom driver extra to get him there quickly. It was a blow to his Cavalryman pride to have to rely on someone else to get him where he needed to go, but it would look rather suspicious for a single rider to go haring about London on horseback. The whole point was to try and blend in on this task.
Elliot kept a far enough distance not to be immediately noticeable, yet close enough to have a good field of view for where the Lady might disembark. Dealing with Fair Folk always made him nervous, there were damn few of them west of the Appalachians and not that many more east. Relying on instinct and book knowledge alone was a good way to wind up dead, but experience with her kind was hard to come by across the pond.
Una let her coachman hand her down. The horses nearby were nervous at the scent of the creatures the pulled her carriage, and while she could not be said to hurry, neither did she tarry. But her coachman had caught sight of the hunter awaiting her, and noted his presence. She dismissed the coach and told her servant to return in an hour or so, and sniffed the wind to smell what she could over the vile taint of iron. There was a strange magic about--ah, yes--it was that one. What had happened to him for that sort of magic to touch him?
Well, she'd find out soon enough. Una unsnapped her parasol and made her way toward the water.
Elliot saw her approach along the path out of the corner of his eye. Whether he was made or she just picked this spot he couldn’t say, but he made a point of being just a fellow traveler. Leaving suddenly would just draw attention when he needed to be inconspicuous. He opened the small bag of breadcrumbs he’d bought from a nearby vendor and tossed a few out to feed the fish. His jacket was open for easy access to the small derringer, and he still had the enchanted blade in his boot.
Neither of those would likely save him if things went bad, but it might give him a chance to get clear and live to fight another day.
But no, Una stopped beside him. "Ah, Monsieur," she said, her French a little Scots-accented, to the extent that he could recognise the accent, "here you are. I was hoping to see you today! Shall we walk and talk?"
“Of course Madame,” his own French wasn’t nearly as good, and his soft Virginia drawl came through loud and clear. If his cover was blown he might as well see what information he could get out of the ancient being, but first he’d try and stick to the reporter story. “It would be an honor to walk alongside such a lovely woman as yourself, and with a voice such as yours it will be a pleasure to listen to whatever you wish to say.”
Una smiled, because his speech was pretty and should be rewarded. "I hope you will have quite a bit to say as well, Monsieur, for you are a very interesting gentleman. I am called Una Nicnevin, and I am formally Baroness Balmore. You are, I think, American? I have not had the pleasure of speaking with many Americans, and certainly none who have travelled as you have."
“A pleasure to meet you Madame Nicnevin, I’m Elliot.” Yes he was ignoring her title, but goddamnit he was an American and he didn’t believe in such things. “I am an American, yes indeed. From the Commonwealth of Virginia originally but I’ve travelled extensively around the country.” He wasn’t going to take the bait on what she meant exactly by her ‘travelled’ comment.
“I’m afraid I’m not that interesting to be honest with you Madame.” A self deprecating shrug that would have made a Frenchman envious. “One could say I’m rather boring. But I’ll do my best to offer interesting conversation.”
"I do not mean in your own country. I mean in time." This was one of those things she really wasn't supposed to talk about in public, but the man was mannerly and Una was intrigued. "Perhaps we could make an exchange of information. If you would rather speak in private, I can arrange for that."
Okay. So he was definitely busted if she could tell that. Elliot tried not to be nervous, really. She hadn’t done anything threatening, just told him she could see things that he couldn’t. He’d faced down the worst the Rebs could throw at him and came out alive on the other side, he could face this.
“That won’t be necessary Madame.” He replied, indicating his surrender to her curiosity. “There aren’t many who would believe my tale, but if we walk toward those seats over there I think we’d be private enough. I would value an exchange of information very much, if you think what I offer is worth it.” Always be respectful to the ancient, scary powerful fairies. If he’d learned one thing about them in his time with the Pinkertons it was that.
They weren’t the kind of beings you wanted to have a grudge against you.
Sometimes asking directly got Una exactly what she wanted. "Let us do so then," she agreed, and offered her arm in a perfectly genteel manner to her new acquaintance.
Elliot accepted the arm, one that was noticeably cool to the touch even through their mutual clothing. Together they strolled casually toward the set of benches along a less traveled path and he tried to keep the outward projection of calm even though his heart was racing as if he were about to go into combat again.
Once they were at the bench he waited until Una’s had settled herself then sat down beside her (running was pointless). “There, we should have privacy here.” He spoke in English, deciding it was better to have the conversation in his native tongue. “What is it you wanted to know ma’am?”
Una leaned forward, her eyes shining with interest. "I'm just curious. How do you travel in time? Is it magic, or do you have a device? Or did someone force you into it? How far did you come? No more than a couple of centuries, I imagine; unless you're a Norseman. Are you Norse?"
“I do have a little viking in me, but no ma’am I'm not. My family heritage is mostly Scots-Irish.” Elliot didn't particularly like to talk about it but when the ancient fairies asked questions it was better to answer. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I barely traveled two decades. It might as well be two centuries with the rate my country is changing but barely the blink of an eye for one such as you. As for how, I couldn't begin to tell you how it happened, I don't understand it myself.”
Little did he know that he'd said something that stood him in good stead with Una. "Ahh, one whose ancestors were driven abroad by the wars." There was a bit of a pout at the news that he hadn't travelled very far, but it had still been enough to leave a mark on him. "Well, you have answered my questions. Ask of me and we shall see what you learn."
“As a matter of fact they were, yes ma’am.” Elliot didn’t bother to hide his surprise she had an idea of mundane politics. As far as the Pinkerton’s files went there was only one Fae that had demonstrated political leanings. “On both sides. My father’s family went over after the English Civil War, and my mother’s after the ‘45 Rising. My great grandfather fought for the Stewarts.”
“I’m with the Pinkerton Special Branch, I’m not sure if you’re familiar with us ma’am, but we function similar to the Night Watch. I’m trying to locate a vampire named Brandon Stahll, and what’s left of his coven. They’re wanted back home in connection with several murders and theft of magical items.”
There was a nod at the mention of the Civil War and the 45 and a slight smile at the mention his ancestor had been on the proper side of things. The murders hardly interested Una--it was what vampires did when they weren't careful--but the connection with magical items did. That could mean all sorts of trouble. Her mien grew more serious.
"I do not know this vampire, nor your agency, but the matter of enchanted items concerns all of us who are aware. Do you know what kind of items were taken, and from whom? And do you have any specific information to suggest Stahl and his covenmates are associating with Ravensworth? Or are you merely investigating all angles?" Her interest was clearly still piqued, but she looked less like a kitten with a new toy and more like one whose tail might be lashing slightly, even if it wasn't at Elliot.
“I do ma’am. Most were ritual objects: knives, bowls, other paraphernalia associated with it.” He wasn’t entirely prepared to take her words at face value. While Fae couldn’t directly lie, they didn’t always tell you the straight truth or could lie by omission. Asking them three times would get a true response but would also give offense by not trusting their word. The Sidhe noble seemed to like him, or at least wasn’t upset with him, and he’d just as soon keep it that way.
“We’re exploring all the angles and gathering information how and where we can.”
Una frowned. Mortals so rarely answered the important questions. They had odd ideas about what she was really asking. "Do you know what they're trying to do with the items, though? What kind of--" she hesitated and settled on "--crime they stole the things to commit?"
Elliot frowned as well. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse to answer, but he didn’t want to shut the conversation down. Best to stay vague until he got a better idea of what her angle was. If it was just that she was marrying into the Ravensworth coven, then so be it, but he couldn’t just hand over information to a potential part of the problem. As it was he’d already said more than he should. “I can think of easier things to steal if they were wanting to resell them on the black market, ma’am. Have you heard about any new vampires in the area? Americans or at least spent the last several decades in the US?”
Una considered the lack of answer and decided to let it go; it told her most of what she needed to know anyway.
"I am not yet acquainted with enough of my fiance's peers to know all the details of their backgrounds. But it is certainly something I shall be aware of as I meet them. There is to be an occasion soon at which I am to meet them; I shall have a better idea after that. Perhaps we will--" and she paused there, as if something Elliot couldn't sense had drawn her attention.
"You must excuse me for a moment."
And when Elliot's gaze turned to follow hers, there was a very determined-looking fellow walking quite speedily and deliberately in their direction.
Elliot’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the young man walking quickly toward them. His first instinct was to go for the concealed pistol but suppressed the urge, at this range he’d have no shot. Besides that Una seemed completely unconcerned at the man’s sudden appearance. If anything she looked amused.
The man had the look of a tortured soul, and definitely not a laborer. Educated perhaps, at least middle class or higher based on the cut of his clothing. What did he want with her?
Una put herself between Elliot and the newcomer, but not so far away that Elliot couldn't hear the conversation. Una was clearly aware of Elliot's presence and not that concerned about it, or about whatever he might overhear. "Mr Valentine," she said, sounding less amused now than stern. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to speak with you." He was wheedling her. And now that Elliot could get a better look at him, he sounded--and looked--a little less than healthy. Not in the way that suggested a vampire had been feeding on him, but more bright and feverish. "Just--another afternoon in your company, madam, for you are all my inspiration, and without you, there is--nothing."
There was a soft sigh from Una, whose apparent patience with Mr Valentine was closer to breaking than it might appear from the pleasantly fixed smile she was wearing suggested. "I am to be married," she told him firmly. "I am no longer your muse. I know this upsets you, but nothing you can say will sway my opinion. You must stop following me."
Elliot could see the man just wasn’t right. If he didn’t know better he’d expect that the man was a war veteran of some sort, as he had a similar look to some men he’d known who hadn’t been able to get over what they’d experienced. A look he’d seen in the mirror a time or two himself, after waking trembling in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.
Unable to help himself he stepped forward as this ‘Mr. Valentine’ opened his mouth to protest yet again. “The lady asked you to leave sir, and to quit tryin’ to contact her. I’d suggest you do as she asks, as a proper gentleman should.” He may have fought for the Union, but he’d still been raised with the southern ideal of how a gentleman was supposed to conduct himself and it had never entirely left him.
Instead Valentine turned to Una. "Is he my replacement?" Valentine's tone was some combination of indignant and desperate.
"He is a man of business, and you are interrupting that business," Una said, which she felt was quite close enough for truth.
But Valentine's gaze had already swiveled back to Elliot. "You don't understand. But you will, when you've started writing poetry, or drawing her, when she fills your every thought--"
“I'm not some schoolboy chasing a muse, “Elliot responded in derision, looking over the man and not liking what he saw. “My poetry, such as it is, doesn't need to look to the supernatural for inspiration when I have the time and inclination to pursue.” Which wasn't often. “You need to let go of this unhealthy obsession, mister, or it'll get you killed.” With his accent and his dander up it sounded more like ‘git ya kilt’ but Elliot didn't care.
“Now the Lady asked you to leave. If you understand who and what she is you'd best be doing that before she gets annoyed with you. I'd call the Watch on you but I don't need the bother, now get!”
Valentine didn't like what he saw in Elliot's face and he really didn't like the aggressive rebuff. "You'll be sorry," he said, though it wasn't clear whether he meant Una or Elliot or both. Then he scrambled off back the way he'd come.
Una waited until Valentine was out of immediate earshot to turn a kindly smile on Elliot. "Your gallantry is appreciated. Your great-grandfather would be pleased, I'm sure." A beat of a pause, and then she added, "Do you have a card, or a location where you can be reached? There is an event occurring soon that may help you find some of the answers you seek, and I would like to send you an invitation."
“Much appreciated ma’am.” Elliot nodded and smiled briefly, keeping this Valentine person in his line of sight. He reached into his coat pocket and removed a calling card printed with the local Pinkerton office address and his name in ink written above. “Any correspondence can be sent here and they'll make sure I receive it promptly. I appreciate the help. Perhaps later we can sit down and I'll describe what I experienced when I came forward in time. I don't know if it'll be all that exciting but hopefully it'll satisfy your curiosity.”
He tipped his hat and prepared to leave. “I hope your upcoming marriage meets your needs.” If it was a love match he'd eat his hat.
"And I wish you luck with your hunt, Mr Rogers," Una inclined her head regally, as if she were dismissing him from her royal presence. "May it be fruitful."