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
"Is that the merlot?" she gestures at the wine in Sylvia's hand.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
Abigail had declared herself the leader of a coven but she had ascended that staircase alone. No one else had stepped up beside her. So either she was playing a very strange game indeed, or there were people at this party who were secretly aligned with her.
no subject
"Not always about support." Not that Nancy had had any. "Never has been for me. I don't think that's how it is with Abigail, either. I've never asked."
no subject
About Abigail. About the announcement. She figured a straight question might provoke a straight answer.
no subject
Which it had. Her table, and others'.
"I like options. Freedom." Sometimes she could swear she could still feel the weight of the slave ring she once wore.
no subject
She sighed. "Do you. What is your name, child?"
She didn't necessarily expect to get a real name. But she asked anyway.
no subject
And if what Cephei had said was right...
no subject
All young witches were her children, in that sense. Which meant she was almost always willing to forgive them, to welcome them back into the fold.
no subject
"Of course." Non-committal statements were best in this situation. "Though, I would hope you don't take any covens or anything personally. People have their own reasons for doing things." She certainly did.
no subject
"Only when those covens put people in danger." She raised her glass. "Excuse me."
Another witch was trying to catch her eye from across the room, and so Sylvia moved off to join them. How many more people in this room were like Emma, she wondered. She would dearly like to know how many witches Abigail had convinced to join her.