Abigail Widdowson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
acrookedchild) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-07-01 07:21 am
acrookedchild) wrote in undergrounds2015-07-01 07:21 am
Stroke of Midnight [OPEN]
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!)
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!)
B
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.
no subject
She patted her stomach. "I'm digesting. I don't think we've met, Mr...?"
A name would be a good start.
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"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."
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There was no good answer to this, really. If he was, then that meant Abigail had already gotten herself mixed up with a powerful fae which would end badly for all of them. If he wasn't, that meant he was a free agent already showing an interest in this newly declared coven. Which was also bad news.
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And by 'powers that be', he meant her. And the council. And anyone else who tried to make him play by their rules.
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"I hope the powers that be will protect her," she replied. "I have a feeling we'll need to."
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And he didn't. His allegiance was sincere - for the moment. Of course, who knew what would happen when he inevitably got bored or decided he didn't need his allies anymore...
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"In my experience, your kind usually have ill intentions of some sort or another. What are you doing here?"
There was a hard edge to her tone, faint but definitely there. If he was sniffing around this manor, around Abigail, then he was up to something.
no subject
He was celebrating, but not because he cared about the welfare of the Midnight coven, at least not beyond the point where its welfare potentially hindered Daybreak's.
no subject
She needed a refill. Which of course was an excuse to give him a brief nod and smile, bringing the conversation to an end, as she moved to walk away.