Who: Adrien Green, Una Nicnevin What: An invitation to tea Where: the Baroness's London home When: 13th October, 1888 [backdate] Rating: G
It had been, on the whole, a rather improbable week.
Adrien’d been successful with his caper -- he’d stolen the Institute’s most valued asset right out from under their noses, walked out with the vessel in his pocket and no-one the wiser, and the fact that he’d done it, after weeks of planning and preparing and fretting (and fully planning to fail) had yet to fully register.
Getting invited to tea by a Baroness was rather small potatoes compared to that, really.
The card (sent on that thick, heavy, luxurious, very nearly silky paper that screamed “importance”) stared up at him from his writing-desk for a few days, and while he knew that the Baroness was marrying Lord Ravensworth (he didn’t follow the society gossip rags, but he did subscribe to the Shade), he was still a little baffled as to what might warrant an invitation from the lady.
Nevertheless, if a Baroness beckoned, one typically came, so on the appointed day, he wore his best suit (the same one he’d worn to his call on her fiance), and showed up to the Baroness’s house looking as well polished as he could manage.
When he’d approached Lord Ravensworth’s door a few weeks previous, it’d been with the uncertainty of a man who did not know whether he’d be welcomed. Now, approaching the Baroness’s, he knew he’d been invited, was, in fact, expected, but as he didn’t quite know the purpose, he was still a little nervous. That, and the length of the drive was rather disheartening, but he managed the long walk and the knock on the front door (and the fact it was the front door did mean something, he had to admit) at the appointed hour.
To the senses of one such as Adrien, the being who answered the door was not human, and less so than Adrien who had once been human. The Baroness' staff was apparently also fae of one sort or another, though not Sidhe nobles themselves.
Adrien was escorted into the Baroness' parlour, which was surprisingly tasteful and modern for a woman who'd been living in and around London for more than fifteen centuries. She apparently had a taste for the Arts and Crafts movement in household furnishings. The mistress of the house was also a work of art. She broke her tableau a moment after Adrien entered, all rustling skirts and smiles as she came to greet him. "Mr Green. Such a pleasure to meet you at last. My fiance speaks highly of you. Be welcome in my home and enjoy my hospitality freely and without obligation."
“Lady Nicnevin,” Adrien replied, taking the proffered hand and bending a little, going with the name on the invitation rather than the formal title. (He’d been a British citizen since the age of fifteen, and a resident of London for nearly three quarters of a century, but he was still rather uncertain at times about decorum -- he had so few chances to practice.)
“That is… quite kind of him,” he remarked, a touch surprised by the high regard he appeared to have somehow obtained -- it didn’t feel particularly deserved, but then again, Lord Ravensworth had proven surprising on a few different fronts.
“You have a lovely home, and I am most... humbled by your invitation,” he added, a little awkwardly. “I appreciate your welcome.”
The home was, of course, magnificent, and he was trying his best to not be overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all.
Una's smile was genuine and open, and without glamour beyond that which she wore around mortals to make her appear more like one of them. "The pleasure is very much mine, Mr Green. Do come sit and let us talk and enjoy tea." She gestured to him to take a seat in one of the chairs around the center table as the tea service, steaming hot, and the little trays of sandwiches and cakes were brought in.
"I understand that you're a librarian. I have generally dealt more in the oral traditions but the work of gathering artifacts and books must be fascinating, and especially interesting for one whose existence continues longer than the threescore and ten or so allotted to most in Britain." she commented as she settled in. After a moment, she added, "Would you care to pour?"
The tea set was, naturally, beautifully delicate, and he looked at it a little warily, but he nodded his head, remembering (barely in time, this time) to avoid direct thanks for the honor. He worked with Eleri every day, and spent enough time around Mac at the Lionhart in the evenings, but they tended to be far more forgiving of loose use of language, and the Baroness had a reputation for valuing precision. He reached for the teapot carefully, pouring her out a measure before his own.
“The Institute does offer a wealth of riches,” Adrien replied, “but I’ve found the selection more than a little lacking -- the scientific areas are all top notch, and there are various coverages of human magics if one knows where to look, but there’s a decided gap when it comes to other matters.” He smiled, a quick, wry flash of his mouth. “Then again,” he added, looking over at her, “perhaps, given the nature of my superiors, that is for the better.”
"I'm not entirely clear on what your superiors do, and why, which seems like the more interesting question to me. I cannot say that modern science baffles me so much as that it has become prominent and important with a speed that surprises me in my dealings with short-lived mortals." Una confessed that last with a wry smile. "But science and engineering have become a concern for me, personally, with the use of so much iron. I believe there must be alternatives, though they have not been discovered yet."
“I cannot claim nearly as much time on this earth as you, Lady,” Adrien replied modestly, “but I have likewise seen a rather exponential growth in industry in a way that is quite astonishing, and the curve of said growth seems to not taper, but surge forth with even greater speed. The Institute rides the edge of that progress, pushing it along, and actively searching for the next logical step -- given what we know, how can we build upon it.”
“As to why, well, that would be a rather heady mixture of Profit and Progress,” Adrien continued, with a wry twist to his mouth. “I’ve a feeling the former tends to hold sway when it comes to the decisions that are made regarding what is used and why -- as long as steel and iron are plentiful and cheaply made, they remain most useful tools in the construction of this new era, which is unfortunate for you and your kin.”
He lifted the tea and took a sip. “The development of airships is an interesting counterpoint, though, as materials that are light and strong are valued -- and recent advances in aluminum and ceramics are promising, as is exploration into new chemical compounds.” He raised an eyebrow. “Which isn’t to say that these new forays don’t have other unintended consequences -- the increased pollution of our water and air, for instance.”
Una made a face at the mention of pollution. "The poisoning if the air, the earth, and the water is a larger concern than most mortals can see. The answer is beyond me at the time, but I hope that concerns about the longer term come to the fore at some time. I suppose when you plan to die--and not rise, saving your presence--it's easy to put those problems off. You won't have to deal with them. But your children will and there will be a time when money won't buy their way out of the accumulated trouble. It doesn't take a seer to predict that, merely a long enough life.
"I'll be curious at some point to hear what you think your employers are gathering that profit to do, but, please, let us speak less of such matters and more of each other. That, I find, is a better way to become friends. How did you become a librarian? And please, feel free to ask me what interests you as well. I do not mean to be an inquisitor."
The notion that the woman before him wished to become friends was something Adrien supposed he wouldn’t have conceived of as possible until quite recently. During his time with Corinne, they’d been an island of two, turning inward, crafting a sanctuary from a cruel and prejudiced world. He avoided his fellow vampires -- Corinne’s sire and extended coven treated her as a pet gone feral and disavowed his right to exist, so he looked on them with bitterness and caution, and saw them (and other people in positions of power) as being in another sphere of existence, one where he had no place. And after… he’d turned further inward, had lost himself for a while to rage and grief.
The Baroness and Lord Ravensworth were two such people -- people whom he’d dismiss out of hand before, but here they were, inviting him to their homes, treating him with a degree of respect he both deeply craved and felt hardly deserving of.
“I was a school teacher, back in the day,” he said, “when I settled in Canada, after the War of Independence, I took to book learning quite well, and when the man who’d taught me chose to relocate to Sierra Leone, I took up his place. I found education quite compelling. An opportunity to rise above. To be…” he frowned a little, uncertain how to best express the notion. “To be more than one’s circumstances of birth -- to transcend into a realm of pure thought.”
He took a sip of his tea. “When my Sire passed, and I found myself quite alone… I found I depended quite heavily on that notion once more. Books were my solace and saving grace, and through them, I found a reason for my continued existence. I quite threw myself into my studies, and managed to get noticed by the Institute due to some papers I’d gotten published. Say what you will about their motives,” he said, mildly, “they do hire on talent, for which I give them credit.”
He looked over at her, a ghost of a smile flashing across his face. “And I’ll admit, I have a great deal I am curious of, being a man who is driven by the pursuit of knowledge -- I find your familiarity with oral traditions most intriguing, for one.”
"Oral traditions were what most of us had for centuries. Printed books are no longer strange to me, and handwritten scrolls and books never were, but for many people there was no way to learn, save with song and ritual." Una frowned, not in a way that showed displeasure, but one that showed deep thought about how to answer the question in a way that was meaningful and honoured the history Adrien had shared. "Song is, I think, the easiest way. It involves the memory of the body in the shaping and moving of your mouth, just as writing something down involves the memory of your hands shaping the letters and words. The human mind is--not better or worse, I think--but shaping itself differently now that people can know so much more through books so easily. This seems to help drive the progress of engineering, for good and ill."
“Corinne was a singer,” Adrien replied, very nearly before he could think about it. “I… I found her work to be more about the feeling of a thing than anything -- the capacity to express not just words, but tone, intent, emotion… and to make the listener feel those things in turn.”
He cleared his throat, and covered for his awkwardness by taking a sip of his tea. “Song is a far richer medium, I agree,” he added, “and it lends itself far greater to recollection with the addition of a tune -- it very nearly embeds in one’s cells.” He looked down at his cup. “I am, unfortunately, not proficient in the least -- I am only an appreciator of music myself.”
Una politely chose not to directly acknowledge his grief, in case it embarrassed him. Mortal men, and perhaps men who had been mortal, could be strange about such things. But still: "Perhaps sometime you could join me for one of my musical entertainments. I don't mean to give them up simply because I am marrying the Earl. But only if it would not trouble your heart."
Adrien tipped his head. “That would be most kind, Lady,” he said, quietly. “I…” he looked down at his hands, holding the delicate teacup. “If I may be so bold,” he added, “I must admit to being… I am not accustomed to such kindness, and have received a great deal of it of late from you and your fiancee both.” His eyes darted up to meet hers. “And while I am appreciative, I am more than a little baffled by it,” he admitted.
Una did not look away. "You are right to believe there are reasons, Mr Green, but they may not be what you expect. The Earl and I have come together in part over our larger concerns about the supernatural community. For various reasons, both of us have concluded that we must all draw together--and since the announcement of our engagement, matters have only got worse. Apart from whatever schemes your employers may be involved in, there's also the business of the end of September. And other things are moving as well." And whatever they were, these matters weighed on Una enough that they were visible through her habitual glamour for a moment. But then she smiled again, and the concern faded beneath it. "Thus we seek to bring everyone into our circle. Those whose places have been uncertain as well those who would make obvious allies."
Adrien held her gaze evenly enough. He supposed he fit the former more so than the latter -- he rolled the thought around some, and found it fairly apt without any bitterness -- he was a vampire without a coven, after all.
“I am certainly aware of the events of September,” he said, his voice low, “and I’ll confess, I find it worrisome.” He’d been wrapped up in the plans to free Merrick at the time, but it would’ve taken a blind man not to notice the goings-on.
He was aware of two different investigations into powerful magical artifacts -- the Stahl case, and the one brought to him by Shiverthorn -- and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was one of the devices gone utterly awry (or, perhaps, working exactly as it was intended).
He didn’t know what the Baronness was privy to, but he wanted to test the waters some first.
He was, after all, still a touch uncertain of his place.
“Do you know of the Stahls?” He asked, carefully.
He’d asked Lord Ravensworth whose interests he’d represented, and he’d replied that he represented the interests of his own coven -- but the Baroness seemed a touch more expansive and encompassing in her assessment.
That being said, one potential notion of ‘everyone’ and what constituted an ally in the Baroness’s eyes could potentially include people like the Stahls, and not people like Kaya -- although the fact that both the Baroness and her fiance had welcomed him in their homes in the first place did tend to work in their favor; he strongly suspected the Stahls wouldn’t necessarily want to be included in a company that counted someone like him as a member.
"I know of them," Una said carefully. "My intelligence of them is limited, and comes from one side only. Having said that, I find them ... concerning. A potential force for chaos in a time when stability is needed."
Adrien relaxed a fraction and nodded, a tight band loosening in his chest.
He hadn’t dared to ask Lord Ravensworth -- there’d been a part of him that hadn’t wanted to hear the answer, had dreaded it, even -- he knew vampire covens could have allegiances, would potentially be connected through ties of marriage and other ties of shared experience and common goals, but this was a relief to hear.
“I have a similar assessment,” he said, taking a sandwich from the tray to be polite. “That is to say, I cannot state with a certainty that they are connected to the events of the 30th, nor would I wish to imply they were, but I am… aware of their recent activities, and one cannot help but wonder.”
"I cannot say either. But I believe that they are players in the larger drama. Not the only players," Una said grimly, "but involved in some trouble, if not in the trouble of the thirtieth. There is at least one other party that I might suspect, and either the Stahls or the other party could be the Ripper as well. Or not. Saving your presence, there are too many bloody hands here. And I mean that in a literal way as far as some of them are concerned."
Adrien nodded at that, feeling both the weight of the conversation at hand, and the rather heady gratification of being talked to as if his insights mattered.
“I am rather struck,” Adrien replied, having eaten one of the sandwiches (which was, of course, delicious), “that there seems to be so very much going on simultaneously, involving quite different parties -- it suggests either a coordination of sorts, or a greater cause for coincidence -- something about the timing, perhaps, or one player using the notoriety of another to gain ground, or become… emboldened. And all in the face of a rather tenuous treaty, I may add,” he finished, remembering his and Kaya’s all too unpleasant run-in a few weeks back with some rogue werewolves who’d called her a traitor and him an abomination.
He frowned in thought. “I’m marvelously long in supposition and short in fact when it comes to motive, but I appreciate your indulging me.”
"I find it reassuring that someone with different sources of information to mine has come to a similar set of conclusions, Mr Green. We are all long on speculation because we are short on facts and more importantly, connections. I feel as if we are the metaphorical blind men grasping the elephant: one of us has its leg, another its tail, and none know where its tusks are." Una puffed out a little sigh and indulged her pouty mood by having a little petit four. "But let us say that your speculation is correct, especially as regards the treaty.
"If you will forgive my saying so, as an independent of your kind, with prejudices unbound by the long lore of a coven and the inevitable personal bitternesses of loss in the late war, you come to matters with an independent perspective. Where do you see the weak point in the treaty, and how, if you were trying to cause enough trouble to hide your own agenda, would you try to undo it?"
“Oh, I’ve had my share of bitterness,” Adrien replied, quietly. “A roving wolf pack killed Corinne at the start of hostilities.”
He shrugged. “There is something to be said for having a clear winner. Halting before anything definitive means that there are some on either side who still believe they could have succeeded in their goals if only given the chance -- that their victory was stymied, and their glorious future was unfairly snatched from their grasp. It’s a fantasy, to be clear, and a dangerous one -- but it provides circumstances ripe for resentment, both towards the three Queens, as well as the opposing side, who is likewise posturing as the probable victor rather than displaying humility.” He frowned. “There’s also the matter of the difficulty that always emerges when a conflict is split along lines where the two groups differ fundamentally -- to see the opposition as worthy of respect, the inherent dignity and right to personhood, to existence, even, can be quite difficult when the differences are bone deep.”
Taking another sandwich, he looked over at her, thoughtfully. “I do not hold the species as a whole culpable for Corinne’s death, nor hate them for it. But there are several on both sides who would see my befriending a werewolf as a betrayal, as a violation of some fundamental biological rule -- and I find that telling, and a pity.”
"I'm sorry for your loss," Una murmured, because she was, and yet, Adrien sat with her discussing the matter with civility and thoughtfulness, which boded well for her choice to draw him into her work. "Until the day when friendships between the packs and the covens are considered normal again, what we have is not truly peace. Your concerns run with mine. Especially since the Courts, all three, are considered to hold the balance, and two of them stand in the third in the person of one man. One Sidhe. All it takes is, true or not, the appearance of improper favouritism. Or trouble in one or the other of the Courts that distracts them from business on this side of the Veil."
“Such as stolen artifacts,” Adrien murmured quietly, before looking over at her keenly, his eyes narrowing a fraction.
He’d been curious about the Baroness’s motives for marrying Lord Ravensworth, but if she was worried about the appearance of favouritism on Mac’s end of things, than her own outward and obvious favoring of vampires and the Ravensworth coven gained greater meaning.
A counter-weight.
The finger was a little heavy on the scales -- he could see how it’d mollify the vampires and make the werewolves nervous if Mac was supposed to continue to be the neutral party -- but she wasn’t an MP, which did mitigate things somewhat.
“There’s something to be said for a common enemy,” he continued, musing.
It struck him, very nearly viscerally just then, that he was sitting across the tea-table from a powerful, ancient being, a creature with titles in two kingdoms, and she was listening to him -- actually listening, asking him what he thought as if it truly made a difference -- talking of the fate of the supernatural of London not as an abstract concept, a hypothetical, but as a situation she was both concerned with, and able to act upon.
He very nearly lost his nerve at that notion -- he’d been so focused on the questions at hand that taking a step back was dizzying, and while he’d thought a great deal about goings-on as a matter of course, he wasn’t used to having his personal opinion so thoughtfully solicited, to have his responses to things matter, and between the Baroness and Lord Ravensworth, he very nearly felt…
courted wasn’t quite the right word, but it was the closest one that came to mind.
He fumbled a little with his tea, all thumbs all of a sudden, and far too self-conscious, and it took him a moment to regain his equanimity.
Whatever was going on in Adrien's mind as indicated by the minor fumbling of the teacup appeared to be of no moment to Una. She politely waited for him to right himself before responding to what he'd actually said. "You're aware of the second situation, as well, then?" It was not a threat, merely a question; she could speak more freely if she knew what he knew.
There was a small pause, and a brief nod. “I met with a representative from the Winter Court who requested I keep an eye on the Institute’s acquisitions,” he said, carefully. “Other than telling my immediate superior and yourself, I have yet to break that confidence, and have yet to see any evidence the Institute has acquired the objects in question.”
Una nodded gravely by way of acknowledgement. "Then you have collected most of the pieces I have to the larger puzzle. And I would have made that request as well, though I suspect a bit more gently than the Court's hunter." Una could imagine Velathra's treatment of Adrien, not favourably. "Your discretion is much appreciated and I won't mention our discussion in any conversation I have with her. I assume there's been nothing on that front: whoever has the artifacts will certainly be keeping them to themselves."
Adrien dipped his head in reply. “I might add that while I am doing my best to turn an inward eye, that the Institute does…” he leaned a little in his chair, and frowned. “...Well. Shall we say, it has a certain history of keeping items of power hidden, even from those who work there.”
He looked over at her, curiously. “Regardless of whom may possess them, would their use be the cause of what was experienced at the end of the month? Or at least a contender?”
"My knowledge is not complete, of course, but based on what I know? It is not out of the question," Una said carefully. "But the same seems to be true of whatever the Stahls have."
“Which brings us back to whether this was some sort of… coordinated effort,” Adrien replied, thoughtfully, “or a coincidence of convenient timing. There are far too many unknowns, and my library, while endlessly useful on topics in engineering, is sorely lacking when it comes to this sort of thing.” He frowned. “Is there precedent at all? Some… some previous instance in your memory that could serve as a point of comparison?”
"For trying to overthrow Mab? Nothing that would serve here. In the past the great powers of magic have been easier for people like me to observe. Now the rise of engineering and the workings of iron make such things more difficult. In the last century or so, the entirety of the board on which the games of power are played has remade itself." Una set her empty cup aside. "The world is a smaller place now than it was five hundred years ago. But it's noticeably smaller again in the last century and a half. Sometimes I feel as though I'm one of the last forces standing athwart this land shrinking into nothing: a vile place full of soot and filth, water and air tainted. Eventually even the mortals who think themselves above it will be unable to escape. And I wonder what happens then."
Adrien hadn’t thought about that angle -- the motivations of whomever had stolen the artifacts had been a bit of a blank for him -- and he had to file that away to more thoroughly chew over later, as the Baroness’s note of melancholy, of hopelessness, cut through his sudden spike of curiosity.
He looked over at her, suddenly uncertain once more -- his first impulse was to do something that would no doubt be horribly inappropriate, like patting her hand, but instead, he cleared his throat.
“I know what it is to be wholly alone in a hostile world and facing an uncertain future, Lady,” he said, quietly. “My own life is far smaller, to be sure, but I have found… I have found unexpected allies and friends, and with them, a hope I hadn’t thought possible during my darkest hours.” He frowned. “Cold comfort, I’d imagine, given your unique circumstances. You are far wiser than I can ever aspire to be, and your vision of the future is no doubt shaped by such wisdom and experience you bring to bear -- an experience that I can only imagine is deeply isolating.”
His frown deepened. “It is a poor offering, to be sure, but may I humbly say that you are not alone in your goals.”