Stroke of Midnight [OPEN]

[acrookedchild]

Miss Abigail Widdowson cordially invites you to Geap Manor on Wednesday, July 1st at 19:00.

Food, drinks, and music will be provided.

All are welcome, but individuals are to be aware that any hostilities during the evening's festivities will not be tolerated.

It is the first time in at least a generation that the doors of Geap Manor have been opened to the general population. Or, at least, as general as the supernatural community could be considered. Some invitiations were made personally, but most were formally sent to the higher ranking members of the various factions.

Dinner is announced precisely at 19:30. The small, intimate eating area for the family has been turned into a buffet room. The caterers Abigail hired have obviously been paid well to make sure there is something for everyone. Rich meat dishes, hearty vegetarian dishes, light fish dishes, plenty of accompaniments and finger food. There is also plenty of fairly fresh blood for vampires. For the others, there are wines, water, and tea available.

The grand dining room has had its large table removed, replaced, instead, by small tables that can comfortably hold four. They can, of course, be pushed together to allow for more room.

The ballroom is open to the guests, and the DJ has also been highly paid to make sure the music played is precisely to the hostess's tastes. There is plenty of modern music, good for dancing, as well as older classics. However, interspersed are classical pieces meant for waltzes and foxtrots and other such ballroom dances.

In the sitting room is a drink cart with wine, tea, water, and blood. Chairs and divans are available, as the room is a quiet place, a little away from the ballroom, so conversation can be had with ease. There is an unlit fireplace, and a portrait of Abigail a few years younger than she is now hangs above it.

Most of the rest of the house is locked. One can wander the hallways, but it may prove ultimately fruitless. One who simply walks up the stairways will find the walls of each lined with the Widdowson family portraits of every generation, starting with one of a ten-year-old Abby, her parents, and her six-year-old brother. As one takes in all the paintings, a pattern presents itself. Every Widdowson woman featured is pale, thin, and blonde.

The grounds are beautifully maintained and fenced in by wrought iron on top of stone. A very traditional look for such an imposing manor. On the path from the street to the house, there's little remarkable, save the knocker on the door. Behind the house, however, if one ventures away, one might get the keen sense of something from inside the house watching, waiting, and hungering. On the ground floor, the locked rooms are mostly unremarkable, save for the study at the back of the house. Linger too long near there, and one might hear a sound coming in a pattering set. It isn't a knock against the door, no. Instead, it is the sound of something hitting the wall. If someone were to force their way into the nursery on the second floor or the attic several stories up... Well. They likely won't be coming back to the party. Or to anything.

Wandering, of course, isn't a suggested enterprise. The old house doesn't like people poking around and trying to find its secrets.


(Everyone who has at least a familiarity with the supernatural is welcome, as the invitations were distributed widely. Mingle, make your own top comments, enjoy the food, etc!)

Comments

[brightwitch]

A) DINNER

Sylvia has come here with a small group of witches from her coven. Alexandrie is one of them and she's far more excitable about this event than she ought to be, oohing and aahing at the grand architecture and the fine food. Sylvia, on the other hand, is much less at ease though she doesn't show it. There's dark magic here, she's sure of it, and she doesn't only think that because she knows some of the history of Geap Manor.

Still, they are guests and she knows better than to pry too deeply into the house's nooks and crannies. They sit around a table and sample a variety of the dishes available, talking quietly among themselves.

B) BY THE FIREPLACE

It's just after Abigail's announcement and Sylvia is quietly fuming. Just when she thinks she's gotten rid of one rogue coven, another pops up like a bad smell that won't go away. The fact that Abigail has the audacity to announce this in public sends a very strong message, and it's one that Sylvia won't ignore.

She's standing alone by the fireplace in the sitting room with a glass of wine in hand, looking up at the portrait that hangs above it. She had met Abigail once before, should have read the signs. Now it's too late to stop this before it really begins, so she's going to have to think hard about how to approach the matter.

B

[acrookedchild]

"My family's portrait used to hang there." As if this will be a perfectly normal, perfectly civil conversation. As if she hasn't, in a way, just declared war against the older, much more powerful woman. But every action has a reaction. She won't-- can't stand by when others might get hurt. "Uncle insisted mine be put up instead when I came of age."

It should be a mark of pride, signifying the head of the household. But it only struck her as a testament to being alone in this large place, the whole of the family legacy rested on her shoulders.

[brightwitch]

Sylvia glances sideways at the young woman, whom she must now consider her enemy, and gives a tight-lipped smile.

"And what happened to your uncle?"

No doubt he came to a bad end. It's a subtle reminder to Abigail that the same thing will happen to her.

[acrookedchild]

"My uncle is upstairs, as a matter of fact. I believe he might be in the study."

Of course, her uncle wasn't human. He wasn't a witch or a werewolf or anything of the sort. It was his fae magic that twined with the house along with its history.

"He doesn't tend to socialise."

B

[iceolationqueen]

[OOC: Let me know if I need to change any of this.]

"Are you alright, Madam?"

Dumb question. Elsa knows she's not alright. Abigail just announced the formation of a rival coven and a territory take over. And not only that, this coven sounds like it will deal with darker forms of magic. Elsa is not a witch, so she has no dog in this fight, but she's a Redbright alumna and staff member. Her loyalty, if asked to choose, would be to Sylvia.

They don't know each other well. Despite being staff, Elsa doesn't deal with the headmistress often. She's probably overstepping her bounds and should probably take herself elsewhere. Elsa decides to at least try to be helpful.

"Can I get you a cup of tea or something?"

[brightwitch]

Sylvia sighs and turns to Elsa, a tired smile curving her lips. Here is a young woman she can be proud of: once a student of the school, now just starting out as a teacher. Elsa reminds her of why she has devoted so much of her life to building London's supernatural communities. It's to help people like her.

"That would be lovely, thank you, Elsa."

Her tone is genuinely grateful. Sylvia believes in showing appreciation for even the smallest kindness.

[iceolationqueen]

Elsa nods and goes in search of tea. She brings back a steaming cup, hoping that her hands don't cool it too much. She's placed two sugar cubes on the saucer because she's not sure how Ms. Redbright takes her tea.

After handing it to her, Elsa stands next to her at the fireplace, speaking quietly. "What do you make of all this?"

B

[entitles]

"My goodness. Someone doesn't look happy today."

Balem had never actually spoken to Sylvia before, but her name and her covens and her school had been enough of a burden on him as of late that he was more than a little amused to see her like this. He was not obviously fae aside from his collar, having worn a proper suit for once because he figured some of the guests would be able to see through glamours, but he had that familiar dreamlike aura the fae often carried.

[brightwitch]

There was magic radiating from this one in waves, to the point that Sylvia actually took half a step back, looking the man up and down. Her lips thinned. If he wasn't fae, then she had become very bad at recognizing them.

She patted her stomach. "I'm digesting. I don't think we've met, Mr...?"

A name would be a good start.

[entitles]

He laughed. As if he'd give her his actual name, although if she did manage to summon him he'd relish in having her in his debt. Then again, she was one of the more powerful witches and he had not seen the limits of her magic, so it was best not to test it.

"I am the Lord of Stars; you may have heard of me," he said, "If you refuse to call me Lord, you may call me Cephei."

B

[stauncherhearted]

"Ms. Redbright." Nancy's had a good amount to drink, and can't help but approach the older witch. "Wonderful to see you here!" She means nothing negative by it. It is good to see the inter-mingling between the circles. She had nothing against Redbright personally. She just wanted to have a place where she and her friends wouldn't be persecuted.

"Is that the merlot?" she gestures at the wine in Sylvia's hand.

[brightwitch]

The girl has apparently either failed to read Sylvia's mood or deliberately ignored it. Either way it doesn't matter: Sylvia is well-used to playing the polite guest. She raises her glass.

"I believe so. I imagine it's vintage, like everything else, so naturally I couldn't resist."

She takes a sip, and it is very good wine. If nothing else Sylvia can enjoy that.

[stauncherhearted]

Either way, Nancy was here and making conversation and drinking liberally.

She shouldn't have approached Sylvia by any means. It was a stupid thing to do, and somewhere deep down, she knew that. But here she was, because she couldn't resist seeing how Ms. Redbright herself was taking the announcement.

"Abigail has wonderful taste," she said in agreement, gesturing to her own glass. "Way better than boxed." Which was the status quo for Nancy and her best friend Kenzi. "What do you think of the announcement? Being the Mother of Witches."

A

[emotioneater]

"Ms. Redbright. I trust you 'n the rest are enjoyin' yourselves."

Cooper sits down next to her without asking if he can join them. Manners aren't particularly strong with this vampire. He does politely nods at the rest of the witches, keeping his eyes fixed on Sylvia as he slowly sips a glass full of blood.

[brightwitch]

Sylvia has seen enough vampires drinking enough glasses of blood that she can tell them apart from the red wine that the living guests drink. She clocks that in a moment and her smile is therefore strained. Why are vampires so rude?

"Very much so, thank you," she replies.

His arrival has, by the way, killed the conversation. The other witches fall silent, looking up at this newcomer.

[emotioneater]

"Glad t'know it. Islington was going to send someone diplomatic and sophisticated, but since those seem to be in short supply, I got the job instead." He smiles, revealing his fangs as he drinks. That was entirely a lie. He'd wanted to come from the very start and the nest had hardly cared who was representing them, so long as several members were there. It was better to look like a uncouth fool then for it to come out earlier than expected that he was supporting Abigail and her coven.

B

[falsify]

As a rule, Eames tends to stay away from the Daybreak witches. The ones who dabble in the darker stuff are often a nuisance, getting too big for their breeches and making demands they can't possibly expect to hold anyone to, but at least they don't carry the sanctimonious air of their 'better' halves.

He swallows his amusement at today's turn of events as he sidles up to Sylvia, looking up at the portrait with his own glass of wine in hand. He doesn't address her directly when he speaks, but there's no one else close enough for him to be talking to.

"My, you must be fuming," he says as casually as though it were a comment on the weather, rather than a dig at how someone as powerful as her hadn't nipped this in the bud.

[brightwitch]

What is it with total strangers approaching her in order to gloat? Sylvia gives him a very unimpressed side glance, and quaffs her wine before replying.

"You know, you're the second person to say that tonight. Are you a friend of Abigail's?"

If he's a witch, he's one she doesn't know but she can sense his power. God, she hopes he's not another fae. One is quite enough.

[falsify]

"Never met her before," he says with a smile, though he's a little sad he didn't manage to get in to needle her first. Never the matter, he is still curious about how Daybright's local Mother is taking the whole thing.

"She sent out rather a lot of invites. Can't have been wise, but I suppose if one wants to make a point..." Eames trails off, gesturing airily. Point made, he assumes.

b.

[damnyank]

Hi, Sylvia. It's your favorite person ever.

Jackson's got a shit-eating grin affixed to his face, as he saunters over to Sylvia fuming beside the fireplace. One needn't be familiar with her body language to discern Sylvia's foul mood. For Jackson, tonight, that's like a beehive to a a honeybear, as if he took some pleasure out of poking and prodding at the prominent witch.

And just maybe he did.

"Lady Sylvia." Jackson raises a glass of red wine to her. "I was just thinking of you today."

Jackson doesn't bring up the announcement, though he was there for it. Indeed, it was the news of the night.

[brightwitch]

Least favourite person, maybe. She rolls her eyes at him. "Lady Sylvia? Should I be flattered?"

She's not, for the record. Is he happy because he's drunk? Has she ever once talked to him when he isn't drunk?

[damnyank]

Drinking's his #1 after-work recreation, even coming ahead of taking a fair maiden to his bed. Now free food AND drink? That's enough to bring a smile to his face, especially on a day that's been thankfully relaxing, relative to the usual mayhem down at Whitechapel.

One day, perhaps, they'll meet on more respectable terms.

"That depends on how you feel about vampires." He drops his voice a note softer, "Or to be more precise, desiccated vampires."



Nevertheless, he remains mildly disinterested, intrigued only by the ripples and collisions that a brand-spanking dark rival would cause in the ecosystem of London. And more importantly, how he might benefit, or remain neutral, in such disorder.

But those thoughts were fleeting, saved for another time when he had the mind for such contemplations.

super late but B

[detectiveofthewest]

As far as Heiji could tell, it was a pretty rare thing seeing the Chancellor off on her lonesome. Judging from the circumstances, she probably wasn't in the best of moods -- but you couldn't have it all, and he figured this chance was as good as any. He approached her with a a drink of his own in hand.

"Pretty bold move, setting up shop on your doorstep like that."

[brightwitch]

She felt the young man approach before she saw him, sensing a magical presence. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she looked him up and down. Sylvia was prone to making quick judgements, but there was nothing that stood out for her about this stranger. She didn't know what to make of him.

She smiled slightly. "You're not the first one to say that. We'll have to wait and see."

One witch did not a coven make. Only time would tell if Abigail and her lot proved to be a real threat.

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji gave her a friendly sort of smile back. Despite his reservations about the Night Council and Circle Daybreak (and therefore the Mother of Witches herself), everyone he'd met at Redbright Institute so far seemed decent. He liked them. So he figured he owed it to them to talk to their boss.

"Yeah, looks like it. I'm Heiji, by the way. Only moved here a little while ago. Actually, I kinda wanted to talk to you before, only there's usually a lot of..." He motioned vaguely with his hands, signifying the coterie usually to be found around her.