Gilbert Norrell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hurtfew) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-10-27 12:03 pm
hurtfew) wrote in undergrounds2015-10-27 12:03 pm
Entry tags:
[SEMI-OPEN] Written by the Victors
Date: 30th of October, pre-Samhain celebration!
Plot: Smug Victory Dinner, with political manoeuvring
Areas: Westminster
It may have been a struggle, but Lambeth has finally been won over. A week of hard work to drive out all the unspeakable sorts, and another week of trying to keep control and tidy up, and it's looking like things are slowly beginning to settle. Gilbert Norrell is very pleased by this. Now he has proven he can be a leader, can lead them to victory -- and over a difficult area too! Of course, there were difficulties. Were small problems and losses along the way, but that does not matter now.
A dinner is not normally his style, he refused to hold one himself, but Childermass persuaded someone else to hold this on his behalf and -- well, it would be rude to decline. So he attends, if reluctantly (he does not like parties) and smiles as people applaud him. It is a rush of success, of ego, and as people come to congratulate him and find ways to carefully bring up their own causes and beliefs Gilbert Norrell feels that finally he is beginning to be recognised.
The table is carefully laid with glittering crystal glasses, candles and flowers. Not too ostentatious but still elegant and respectable, suited to the style of Norrell himself. Waiters and waitresses silently move back and forth serving people and taking requests or preferences, and the food is plentiful. If people can suffer the small-talk and ego coming from the head of the table, it will at least be a good meal.
[ ooc; log for the Daybreak victory meal! You can give me a ping if you want to be involved and replied already! It's set on Friday night so people can get drunk and slouch home without having to worry about the following morning, and can still attend Samhain things later. Entry is free, food and drink is free! The meal is being held by a lackey of Norrell's who wants to suck up to him since he's on the way up, and Norrell is therefore the ~guest of honour~. Dress code is black tie, thread with each other and mingle! ]
Plot: Smug Victory Dinner, with political manoeuvring
Areas: Westminster
It may have been a struggle, but Lambeth has finally been won over. A week of hard work to drive out all the unspeakable sorts, and another week of trying to keep control and tidy up, and it's looking like things are slowly beginning to settle. Gilbert Norrell is very pleased by this. Now he has proven he can be a leader, can lead them to victory -- and over a difficult area too! Of course, there were difficulties. Were small problems and losses along the way, but that does not matter now.
A dinner is not normally his style, he refused to hold one himself, but Childermass persuaded someone else to hold this on his behalf and -- well, it would be rude to decline. So he attends, if reluctantly (he does not like parties) and smiles as people applaud him. It is a rush of success, of ego, and as people come to congratulate him and find ways to carefully bring up their own causes and beliefs Gilbert Norrell feels that finally he is beginning to be recognised.
The table is carefully laid with glittering crystal glasses, candles and flowers. Not too ostentatious but still elegant and respectable, suited to the style of Norrell himself. Waiters and waitresses silently move back and forth serving people and taking requests or preferences, and the food is plentiful. If people can suffer the small-talk and ego coming from the head of the table, it will at least be a good meal.
[ ooc; log for the Daybreak victory meal! You can give me a ping if you want to be involved and replied already! It's set on Friday night so people can get drunk and slouch home without having to worry about the following morning, and can still attend Samhain things later. Entry is free, food and drink is free! The meal is being held by a lackey of Norrell's who wants to suck up to him since he's on the way up, and Norrell is therefore the ~guest of honour~. Dress code is black tie, thread with each other and mingle! ]
dinner.
That's why he's wandered into the kitchen, hoping to find some good 'ol beer, or maybe to nibble on desserts while the others are dining on their meats.
Upon walking in, Jackson immediately feels more at ease. It's far nicer than the cloistering, oppressive feeling of being among proper witches. It calls home too many bad memories. But that's beside the point--
The point is that he encounters Childermass on his survey of the kitchen. Jackson tosses him an easy smile, before making his request.
"You got any beer here? Or is it all wine and apéritifs," he says, mocking a french accent on the ending word.
no subject
He likes him already.
"Might be able to scavenge something up," he says. As if he doesn't know exactly where there are some bottles of lager waiting chilled, in the fridge behind him. He turns, busying himself with preparing the other man's drink, fetching the bottle and an opener. "Glass?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder once again.
no subject
"Not necessary. Just the bottle's fine." Jackson replies, as he walks over to where Childermass is preparing the drink. He places a hand on his wrist. "You don't gotta go to the trouble of preparin' it for me."
He chuckles, then offers a wink. "I mean, I may be Daybreak, but I'm hardly what you'd call a gentleman."
no subject
"You need not be a gentleman to be a member of Daybreak," he drawls in response to the other man's words. "I'm Daybreak myself, after all, and I'm the sorry sod serving the drinks." He steps back, reclaiming his own drink and raising it in something of a toast towards the other man in turn.
no subject
"This ain't the 18th century, brother. You don't gotta stay that sorry sod," he says, raising his bottle and extending his second finger to point at Childermass. "It's your prerogative to improve your prospects, assuming you've got the guile or talent to pull it off."
He passes the bottle to Childermass.
"My gut tells me you do-- especially, if you're a witch."